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PETER PARLEY’S 
 SHORT STORIES 
 
 FOR 
 
 LONG NIGHTS, 
 
 WITH ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 WILLIAM D. TICKNOR. 
 
 1836 . 
 
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 51 
 
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 072f 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1834, 
 By S. G. Goodrich, 
 
 In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 
 
PUBLISHER’S NOTICE. 
 
 The following stories have been 
 published in a separate form ; but 
 it has been thought that the 
 whole, collected into one volume, 
 might be an acceptable present 
 to our young customers. We 
 have bestowed upon them the title 
 of “ Short Stories for Long 
 
4 
 
 publisher’s notice. 
 
 Nights,” and trust they may not 
 only serve to wile away the long 
 winter evenings, but assist in 
 training the juvenile mind and 
 heart to truth, gentleness, and 
 virtue. 
 
 I 
 

 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Little Gardener, ... 7 
 
 The Freshet, or the Morning 
 
 Walk, 20 
 
 The Two Friends, .... 37 
 
 The Bird Robber, ... 56 
 
 The Orphans, 72 
 
 The Little Wanderers, . . 92 
 
 Alice Gray, 112 
 
 The Umbrella and the Tiger, 128 
 
THE LITTLE GARDENER. 
 
 11 
 
 food, and he was therefore obliged to 
 leave her. 
 
 He was very young, and now, alas ! 
 he was destitute of every thing. His 
 little straw hat was worn out, and he 
 had nothing to wear upon his head. 
 His shoes were gone, and, though the 
 weather was growing cold, his feetwere 
 bare. His clothes, too, were thin ; and, 
 as he went out in the morning to beg 
 some one to give him food, he shivered, 
 and his teeth chattered with cold. 
 
 He went along in the streets for some 
 time, and he met a great many people; 
 but he did not dare to speak to them. 
 He was very hungry, for he had eaten 
 nothing the day before ; but he did not 
 
12 
 
 PARLEY’S STORY OF 
 
 know how to beg. He wandered about 
 for several hours, till at length he came 
 to a baker’s shop. The windows were 
 filled with gingerbread, and every thing 
 that was good to eat. He put his little 
 foot upon the step, and was about to 
 enter ; but the baker looked sharply at 
 him, and Peter, finding his heart to 
 fail him, went away. 
 
 He proceeded in his walk through 
 some of the fine streets, looking wist- 
 fully at the nice things he saw in the 
 shop windows ; but he had no money, 
 and he felt that he had no friends. 
 
 But he was now starving with hun- 
 ger, and he resolved to enter some 
 house and ask for a piece of bread. 
 
THE LITTLE GARDENER. 
 
 13 
 
 At this moment he came to a large 
 house belonging to some rich man. 
 From the sidewalk he could look into 
 the kitchen. Here he perceived a 
 plenty of food, and as he approached 
 the window, the steam of meat, and 
 the flavor of pies and cakes, met his 
 nose. Surely, thought the little boy, 
 the people here have so many good 
 things, that they will not refuse me a 
 crust of bread. 
 
 With this idea he ventured timidly 
 down the steps, and entered the kitchen. 
 He there met a woman, and gently 
 asked her to give him something to 
 eat. He told her his sad story, and 
 prayed her to save him from being 
 
14 
 
 parley’s story of 
 
 starved. But the woman had a hard 
 heart, and would give him nothing. 
 In vain did the little boy plead for a 
 single crust of bread : this was refused, 
 and the woman sternly commanded 
 him to leave the room. 
 
 Sad, and almost broken hearted, 
 Peter left the place ; and ashamed now 
 to be seen in the crowded streets, he 
 retired to a remote part of the city. 
 Here he walked about in the narrow 
 lanes till evening. 
 
 When it was dark, he sat down upon 
 a stone, and gave himself up to grief. 
 He was chilled with the cold night 
 wind ; for his head and feet were bare, 
 and his clothes were very thin. 
 
THE LITTLE GARDENER. 
 
 15 
 
 It soon began to rain, and at length it 
 fell in showers. Peter was wet to the 
 skin ; yet he had no home, and there- 
 fore he continued to sit upon the stone. 
 With his head leaning upon his hand, 
 he remained for a long time faint with 
 hunger, and trembling with the wet 
 and cold. At length he thought of 
 his poor father, and of the happy days 
 he had spent in attending his flowers. 
 He thought of his mother too, whom 
 he remembered very well, though she 
 had been dead two years. 
 
 And now, for the first time, he began 
 to weep. No one saw him, for it was 
 very dark, and few people passed along 
 the narrow street. His tears mingled 
 
16 parley’s story of 
 
 with the rain that ran down his cheeks, 
 and his sobs might have been heard 
 amid the pattering of the water that 
 fell from the houses. 
 
 But, alas ! there was no one to hear, 
 and the poor boy continued in his 
 lonely and desolate situation till the 
 bell had rung for nine o’clock. 
 
 About this time, a man was passing 
 by the place where Peter sat. It was 
 so dark that he saw nothing, but he 
 thought he heard the voice of some 
 one in distress. He stopped and lis- 
 tened. He then distinctly heard the 
 sobbing of a child. 
 
 At this moment, some person hap- 
 pened to go near the place with a lan- 
 
THE LITTLE GARDENER. 
 
 17 
 
 tern. The light shone on a little boy 
 that was sitting alone upon a stone. 
 The kind-hearted man was touched 
 with pity, for he saw that the child 
 was weeping, and that he was exposed 
 to the cold night air and the drenching 
 shower. 
 
 He approached, and asked the boy 
 why he was there. Peter told him his 
 story, and the good man wept in sor- 
 row. “ But come with me, my boy,” 
 said he, “ come with me. I will take 
 you to a warm room, and I will give 
 you food. Come with me, and if you 
 are a good boy, I will be your father, 
 and you shall want for nothing.” 
 
 Peter now took hold of the man’s 
 
 2 
 
18 parley’s story of 
 
 hand, and trotted along the pavement 
 with his bare feet. They soon reached 
 the house, and Peter warmed himself 
 by a good fire. He had then a bowl 
 of bread and milk, and afterwards was 
 provided with a warm bed. 
 
 As he lay down, he thanked that 
 good Being in heaven, who had thus 
 turned his sorrow into joy ; and his 
 heart was full of gratitude to the kind 
 man who had brought him home to his 
 house. After a night of sweet sleep, 
 Peter waked up, and again offered his 
 thanks to Heaven. 
 
 I need hardly tell you the remainder 
 of Peter’s story. He lived with the 
 man who had brought him home, and, 
 
THE LITTLE GARDENER. 
 
 19 
 
 by his good conduct, won the favor 
 of all who knew him. When he grew 
 up, he chose to be a gardener ; and, as 
 he was very industrious, he laid up a 
 good deal of money, and built himself 
 a small house. By the side of it was 
 a neat little garden, where he raised 
 vegetables and flowers. These he 
 used to sell ; and thus he lived very 
 happily. And so, my little reader, all 
 persons, however poor, may get to be 
 happy, if, like this little Irish boy, they 
 are good and industrious. 
 
STORY OF THE FRESHET. 
 
 Margaret Ray lived in Vermont, in 
 a little valley surrounded by the Green 
 Mountains. Her father was dead ; 
 but her mother, who was a kind, good 
 woman, took excellent care of her. 
 
 The house in which they dwelt was 
 small, low and brown, but it was very 
 comfortable. Near it was a fine or- 
 chard of apple-trees, and a garden, 
 which not only produced plenty of 
 kitchen vegetables, but an abundance 
 of currants, raspberries, plums and 
 
STORY OF THE FRESHET. 21 
 
 pears. These fruits arrive at great 
 perfection in Vermont, but peaches 
 do not thrive as well. Mrs. Ray, 
 however, had a few peach-trees, which, 
 by careful attention, produced some 
 fine peaches almost every year. 
 
 Thus, although the house was small, 
 the place where little Margaret lived 
 was extremely pleasant. In summer, 
 it attracted the attention of every 
 stranger who passed by. Mrs. Ray did 
 not, like some country people I could 
 mention, permit her fences to tumble 
 down, and thus throw open the garden 
 and grounds to the pigs and cattle. 
 She did not allow her geese to sit be- 
 fore the door-yard gate, and thus ren- 
 
22 
 
 parley’s story of 
 
 der the entry to the house filthy and 
 disagreeable. She did not make her 
 wood pile in the street before the 
 house, and collect around it all the 
 broken sleds, carts and carriages be- 
 longing to her. 
 
 No ! Mrs. Ray was a wise woman, 
 and managed her affairs better. She 
 loved neatness, and knew that there 
 was a great deal of comfort in it. 
 She thought it her duty to set an ex- 
 ample of neatness to all her family 
 and the neighbors around her. Above 
 all, she wished that her children should 
 be brought up with a love of order 
 and neatness. She wished that their 
 home might be pleasant, so that 
 
THE FRESHET. 
 
 23 
 
 they should love it. She wished that 
 it should furnish a scene of comfort 
 and good order, which might be 
 strongly impressed upon their young 
 minds, so that in after life they should 
 remember and imitate it. 
 
 Now, one might suppose that Mar- 
 garet Ray, with such a home, and 
 such a mother, might have been very 
 contented and happy ; but 1 am sorry 
 to say that, although she was a good 
 girl on the whole, she was sometimes 
 unreasonable. I will tell you a story, 
 which will not only make you under- 
 stand her character, but it will also 
 teach you how much better it is for 
 children to follow the advice of their 
 
24 
 
 parley’s story of 
 
 parents, who are older and wiser than 
 they, than to follow their own fancy. 
 
 One fine morning in September, 
 Margaret asked her mother to let her 
 go and walk. “ I think it is going to 
 rain, Margaret,” said Mrs. Ray, “ and 
 therefore you had better not go.” 
 
 “ Oh ! why mayn’t I go ?” said Mar- 
 garet, impatiently. 
 
 “ Why may you not go ?” said her 
 mother. “ I have just told you the 
 reason ; I think it is going to rain, my 
 child.” 
 
 “ But I don’t believe it is going to 
 rain,” said Margaret, “and I don’t 
 care if it does rain. I wish I might do 
 as I like. I can never walk when 1 
 want to.” 
 
THE FRESHET. 
 
 25 
 
 Margaret then began to look sour ; 
 and, although she was generally a 
 handsome little girl, she now looked 
 very ugly. Her mother spoke to her 
 kindly ; but she was still in a bad hu- 
 mor. At length, perceiving that it 
 would soon begin to rain, Mrs. Ray 
 thought it best to let Margaret have 
 her own way, and take the consequence 
 of her folly and obstinacy. Accord- 
 ingly, she told her that, for once, she 
 might do as she liked, and, if she 
 chose to go and walk, she was free 
 to do so. 
 
 “ But I want to wear my new bon- 
 net,” said Margaret. “ Very well,” 
 said her mother ; “ you may wear your 
 
26 parley’s story of 
 
 new bonnet if you choose. But I 
 warn you that it will soon rain, and 
 you may be sure that it will be 
 spoiled.” 
 
 “ I am not afraid of the rain,” said 
 Margaret, smartly. “ I will wear my 
 new bonnet, and I will take my new 
 basket, and I will carry the kitten, 
 and Worry shall go with us, and we 
 will have a fine time of it. It is a 
 very fine morning, and I do not believe 
 it will rain ; and we will have a long 
 walk, and I shall like it all the better 
 because my mother lets me do just as 
 I please.” 
 
 And the little girl was allowed to 
 have her way, and accordingly, putting 
 
THE FRESHET. 
 
 27 
 
 on her new straw hat, taking her bas- 
 ket upon one arm, and her kitten 
 upon the other, with her little dog 
 Worry at her side, she set forward. 
 
 The morning was indeed pleasant ; 
 for although the clouds that foretold 
 the coming storm were piled in dark 
 masses upon the tops of the moun- 
 tains in the south-west, still the eastern 
 sky was yet clear, and the sun shone 
 bright and warm upon the little val- 
 ley. 
 
 Margaret was in high spirits; and 
 the dog ran, leaped and barked, as if 
 his heart wa3 full of joy. He plunged 
 into the bushes, whenever he heard 
 the chirp of a squirrel, chased the 
 
28 parley’s story of 
 
 birds across the open fields, leaped 
 into the brooks, scampered up and 
 down the hills, and then came run- 
 ning in circles up to his little mis- 
 tress. 
 
 September is a beautiful month, for 
 the weather is mild, and the trees are 
 then covered with many bright colors. 
 Some of them are yellow, some red, 
 some purple, and some are still green. 
 Margaret admired the appearance of 
 the forest, and, attracted by the many 
 colors of the mountain, she followed 
 a stream that led up its side, and was 
 soon in the midst of the woods. 
 
 Pleased with her walk, and delighted 
 with every thing she saw, she went 
 
THE FRESHET. 
 
 29 
 
 on with rapid steps. “How foolish,” 
 thought she, “ how unreasonable was 
 my mother ! She thought it was going 
 to rain, or she pretended to think so, 
 and she wished to deprive me of this 
 beautiful walk. She wished to keep 
 me in the house all day like a bird in 
 a cage, or a rat in a trap. But here 
 I am, out of the reach of her voice ; 
 and now that I am free, I will have a 
 good ramble of it.” 
 
 Thus thinking, the little girl went 
 rapidly along by the stream ; and for 
 nearly two hours, she continued to 
 wind gradually up the mountain, 
 through the narrow dell which had 
 been formed by the rushing waters. 
 
SO parley’s story of 
 
 At length she was a little fatigued, 
 and sat down to rest herself. 
 
 But scarcely was she seated, when 
 the rain began to fall, and the wind to 
 pour over the forest with a hollow 
 sound. She was a little alarmed, and 
 instantly rose to return. But the rain 
 increased, and the gust soon rose to a 
 tempest. The tall trees bowed their 
 heads and shook their wet leaves, and 
 the water rushed foaming down the 
 sides of the hills. 
 
 The little river, which, a few min- 
 utes before, was so small that Marga- 
 ret could leap across it, was soon 
 swelled to a torrent, and leaped, 
 foamed, and rushed in wild uproar 
 down its pathway. 
 
THE FRESHET. 
 
 31 
 
 Margaret was now seriously fright- 
 ened, and began to think that it had 
 been better to have taken her moth- 
 er’s advice, and staid at home. She 
 was soon thoroughly wet; and her 
 anxiety was not a little increased by 
 perceiving that her little kitten clung 
 to her side with the greatest fright, 
 and that Worry, who was generally so 
 gay, now walked drooping and timid 
 at her heels. 
 
 But Margaret had a good deal of 
 courage, and though convinced of her 
 folly, and heart-stricken on account 
 of her disobedience, she ran along 
 through the woods, as fast as the 
 storm would permit. Several times, 
 
32 parley’s story of 
 
 she was thrown down by the wind, 
 and once or twice she slipped into the 
 edge of the stream ; but she kept on 
 her way, and was near the foot of the 
 mountain when a serious difficulty oc- 
 curred. 
 
 She had reached a place where the 
 river crossed her path, and it was 
 necessary that she should go through 
 it in order to get home. The waters 
 roared, dashed and tumbled over the 
 stones, and Margaret stood some time 
 on the bank, before she could venture 
 to step into the wild current. But the 
 wind swept by like a hurricane, and 
 the rain poured in showers, and she 
 could no longer hesitate. With a 
 
THE FRESHET. 
 
 33 
 
 bold heart, and a sure foot, she sprung 
 into the water, and Worry, with a gal- 
 lant leap, followed the little girl’s ex- 
 ample. 
 
 They had now reached the middle 
 of the stream, when Margaret came 
 to a deep place, and sunk a moment 
 beneath the water. She rose again, 
 however, and was rapidly borne down 
 the stream. Her bonnet, loosened 
 from its string, was carried away by 
 the whirling tide ; the basket swept 
 down the stream, and the poor lit- 
 tle kitten, being dashed along over the 
 roots and rocks, was soon drowned. 
 
 Margaret was soon incapable of ex- 
 ertion* and was carried along in a 
 3 
 
34 parley’s story of 
 
 senseless state by the water. Worry 
 was now her only helper. Seeing his 
 mistress in danger, his fear departed, 
 and, swimming by her side, he sought, 
 by every means in his power, to save 
 her. He caught hold of her dress, 
 and, swimming with all his strength, 
 endeavored to draw her to the shore. 
 At length, partly by his efforts, and 
 partly by the stream, she was thrown 
 upon the bank. 
 
 For some time she was senseless ; 
 but at length she partly recovered, 
 and drew herself up from the water, 
 to a place of safety. But she was too 
 feeble to walk, and she remained a 
 long time in her helpless situation. 
 
THE FRESHET. 
 
 35 
 
 Her little dog manifested, by every 
 art he could use, his sorrow and his 
 sympathy. He knelt before her ; he 
 looked earnestly in her face ; he licked 
 her hands and cheeks ; he whined ; he 
 barked, and did all but say, “ Courage, 
 courage, my little mistress ; we shall 
 get home, and it will all be well yet.” 
 
 Margaret patted the little dog, but 
 she could not speak. She looked in 
 his face, and pointed towards home. 
 He seemed to understand her, and 
 set off immediately at a round gallop. 
 
 He had not proceeded far, before 
 he met some people coming in search 
 of the little girl. He guided them to 
 the place where she was sitting ; and 
 
36 parley’s story of the freshet. 
 
 Margaret was carried back to her 
 mother. The new hat and basket 
 were never found ; and I need hardly 
 tell you that she was now cured of her 
 disobedience ; and I hope my little 
 readers will remember that it is much 
 better to obey their parents, and fol- 
 low their counsel, than have their 
 own way. 
 
STORY OF THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 The dog is a very interesting crea- 
 ture. In the first place, he is a very 
 handsome animal. He carries his 
 head aloft in the air, with his ears and 
 his tail erect. His eye is bright, and 
 possesses a very knowing look. He 
 is very swift ; and some dogs will run 
 as fast as a horse. Beside all this, the 
 dog is a very sagacious animal. By 
 this I mean that he has a good deal 
 of sense, and often shows himself in 
 this respect superior to all other brutes 
 
38 
 
 parley’s story of 
 
 except the elephant. I will tell you 
 a little story which will show you how 
 much a dog sometimes knows. 
 
 There was once a surgeon in Eng- 
 land who came across a little dog that 
 was lame, whom we will call Trip. 
 He pitied the poor dog ; and so he 
 took him home, and bandaged his leg 
 with great care. The animal, finding 
 himself more comfortable, returned, 
 the next day, to the surgeon, who 
 again dressed the lame leg. Trip 
 soon became fond of his new friend, 
 and went to his house every day to 
 have his leg taken care of, till it got 
 quite well. 
 
 For several months after this, the 
 
THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 39 
 
 surgeon saw no more of his patient, 
 Trip. But at length the little dog 
 walked into the surgeon’s house with 
 a sad face, accompanied by another 
 dog. On examining this animal, the 
 surgeon perceived that he had a bro- 
 ken leg ; and Trip, by jumping up to 
 him, and going back to the lame dog, 
 by whining, and various other signs, 
 seemed to beg the surgeon to take 
 care of his poor lame companion, as he 
 had formerly taken care of him. The 
 surgeon, who was a kind-hearted man, 
 was delighted with the conduct of lit- 
 tle Trip ; so he took care of his lame 
 friend, and by and by, the poor ani- 
 mal was quite cured. 
 
40 
 
 parley’s story of 
 
 This is a very pleasing story, and I 
 believe it is entirely true. It shows 
 that Trip was a sensible dog, and had 
 a kind feeling for his companion. 
 
 But dogs are not only handsome, 
 swift and sagacious, but they become 
 very much attached to their friends. 
 I will tell you a story which will show 
 the fondness of a dog for his little 
 master, at the same time that it will 
 prove how capable this interesting 
 animal is of being useful. 
 
 I suppose you have all heard of the 
 state of Maine. In that state there 
 is a large river called Penobscot. 
 Near the borders of this river, there 
 once lived a man named Boyd, who 
 had a little son called Harry. 
 
THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 41 
 
 The house of Mr. Boyd, though 
 it was very handsome and pleasant, 
 was surrounded by woods, which ex- 
 tended over the hills and valleys for 
 many miles. There was no other 
 house near ; but little Harry was ac- 
 customed to walk among the woods 
 without fear. He was always attended 
 in his walks by a favorite dog called 
 Trusty. 
 
 This animal well deserved his name, 
 for he always kept by the side of his 
 little master, and seemed to take as 
 much care of him, as if he was his 
 own brother. The animal was large, 
 black and shaggy, and was of that kind 
 called the Newfoundland dog. He 
 
42 parley’s story of 
 
 was very good-natured, and exceed- 
 ingly playful. 
 
 Sometimes little Harry and his dog 
 would stop in the woods, when the 
 weather was warm, beneath a shady 
 tree, and frolic together for half an 
 hour. When they were tired, they 
 would lie down, and Harry would lay 
 his head upon the soft skin of his 
 companion, and go to sleep. After a 
 little while, they would get up, and, 
 having finished their ramble, would 
 return home. 
 
 Thus the two friends spent their 
 time very happily together. But, at 
 length, Harry having arrived at the 
 age of about thirteen years, a sad ac- 
 
THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 43 
 
 cident befell him, of which I will give 
 you an account. One fine summer 
 morning, the two friends set out to- 
 gether, for the purpose of taking a 
 walk. They proceeded for some 
 time along the banks of a river. 
 
 Trusty, like all Newfoundland dogs, 
 being fond of the water, frequently 
 jumped into the stream, and seemed 
 to enjoy swimming about very much. 
 Harry encouraged him by throwing 
 sticks far out into the river, which 
 Trusty would pursue, and bring them 
 back to the shore in his mouth. 
 
 Having amused themselves for some 
 time in this way, Harry and his dog 
 left the river, and climbed up a high 
 
44 parley’s story of 
 
 hill, covered with trees. On reaching 
 the top, they ascended a large rock. 
 From the top of this, Harry saw at a 
 distance a small lake, which he had 
 never observed before. It looked very 
 blue and beautiful, and he was very 
 anxious to visit it. 
 
 As it did not appear to be very far, 
 he went down from the rock, and 
 set out for the lake. He soon came 
 to a deep valley between two hills. 
 This was thickly covered with trees, 
 between which a bright little river 
 was flowing. Harry supposed that 
 this river would lead him to the lake ; 
 and therefore he determined to keep 
 along its side until he should reach it. 
 
THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 45 
 
 The weather was warm, and noth- 
 ing could be more beautiful than the 
 little stream, and the woody vale 
 through which it ran. The leaves of 
 the trees were so thick as hardly 
 to permit the sun to shine through 
 them. 
 
 Attracted by the cool shade, there 
 were many birds among the trees, 
 whose wild songs filled the valley with 
 music. Harry would often stop to 
 listen ; and sometimes, charmed by one 
 of these songsters, he would sit down 
 for several minutes, and, commanding 
 Trusty to be quite still, would wait till 
 the bird had ceased his song. 
 
 He would then set forward, and 
 
46 parley’s story of 
 
 proceed on his way, until some beau- 
 tiful bright flower, that bloomed by 
 the water, or some foaming fall of the 
 stream, attracted his attention, and in- 
 duced him to pause. 
 
 His mind being full of pleasure, the 
 little rambler did not, for a long time, 
 observe the great distance to which 
 he had gone. At length, however, he 
 began to be a little anxious, and won- 
 dered that he did not come to the 
 lake. This induced him to walk 
 faster ; and although the trees became 
 thicker, and the scene more wild, he 
 continued for some time to proceed 
 with greater rapidity. 
 
 Becoming more and more impatient, 
 
THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 47 
 
 he hurried on, until at length he began 
 to observe, that the day was drawing 
 toward a close. Perceiving by this 
 that he had been many hours from 
 home, and knowing that he must be 
 at a great distance, he became afraid, 
 that, if he went back by the windings 
 of the stream, he should not reach 
 home before dark. 
 
 He therefore determined to cross 
 the woods by what he supposed a 
 shorter route. Unfortunately, he took 
 the wrong direction, and went in an 
 opposite course to that in which his 
 home lay. Being a good deal alarmed, 
 he proceeded, making his way be- 
 tween the trees and over the stones 
 as rapidly as possible. 
 
48 parley’s story of 
 
 He soon perceived that the shad- 
 ows of evening began to fall around 
 him ; the songs of the birds began to 
 cease ; and one after another, they 
 stopped, till only a single thrush was 
 heard at a distance. The squirrels, 
 whose merry sounds had frequently 
 met his ears, were heard no more ; and 
 as the darkness thickened beneath the 
 trees, an almost death-like stillness 
 crept over the forest. 
 
 Harry, for a moment, paused and 
 listened : not a sound was heard. The 
 single thrush had closed his song, and 
 all nature seemed hushed in repose. 
 
 While the little boy was standing 
 in this situation, his dog came before 
 
THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 49 
 
 him, and, dropping his ears and tail as 
 if dejected and in sorrow, he looked 
 wistfully in the face of his little mas- 
 ter. Harry, touched by the dog’s 
 look of distress, and saddened by his 
 own fears, burst into tears. At the 
 same instant, Trusty set up a howl, 
 which made the forest ring. 
 
 The echoes were carried from hill 
 to hill ; and Harry, hoping that this 
 cry of distress would be heard, wait- 
 ed some time, in anxious expectation 
 that it would be answered. But the 
 far off echoes died away, the drowsy 
 stillness settled again over the scene, 
 and nothing was heard but the sighing 
 of the night wind among the trees. 
 
 4 
 
50 parley’s story of 
 
 Almost in despair, the little wan- 
 derer again set forward, and for some 
 time was occupied in climbing a 
 steep hill. At length he reached the 
 top, and began to descend. But he 
 was obliged to be extremely cautious, 
 for it was now very dark, and his 
 way lay among steep rocks, fallen 
 trees, and projecting roots. 
 
 The situation of the poor boy was 
 not only distressing, but perilous. He 
 was approaching a precipice ; and, 
 although he was very near, the dark- 
 ness hid it from his view. Trusty 
 seemed to be aware of the danger ; 
 for he placed himself before his mas- 
 ter, and howled, with a voice so pier- 
 
THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 51 
 
 cing, that the forest seemed startled 
 at the sound. 
 
 But the caution of the faithful dog 
 was of no avail. Harry’s foot slipped ; 
 and, being borne forward, both he and 
 Trusty were plunged headlong down 
 the cliff. The distance was not great, 
 but Harry was stunned, and Trusty 
 had one of his fore feet seriously in- 
 jured. 
 
 Careless of his own suffering, how- 
 ever, the poor dog seemed only anx- 
 ious for his master. Raising his voice 
 to its utmost pitch, he made the for- 
 est ring with a long, wailing howl, 
 piteously expressive of his anxiety. 
 He then paused, lifted his ears, to 
 
52 parley’s story of 
 
 catch the slightest sound, and gazed 
 in every direction with intense ear- 
 nestness. 
 
 Again and again he howled ; but no 
 one came to his assistance. After 
 waiting some time, he sprang suddenly 
 from the side of his master, and 
 bounded away with the greatest speed. 
 Over rock, and root, and stream, he 
 flew, as if he were in a smooth path. 
 Straight he went over hill and valley, 
 until he had gone to the distance of 
 more than two miles. 
 
 At length he reached a low hut, 
 made of upright poles, and covered 
 with sods. There was no light within, 
 and the door, consisting of a large 
 
THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 53 
 
 piece of bark, was closed. But the 
 impatient dog, panting with heat and 
 fatigue, began to scratch violently at 
 the door, at the same time barking 
 and howling with all his might. 
 
 In a moment, he heard a sound 
 within ; and soon, a tall Indian, 
 with a burning torch in his hand, 
 came to the door. He seemed to 
 know the dog, and his countenance 
 expressed great surprise. Trusty 
 fawned upon him, wailed, ran a little 
 way toward the spot where his mas- 
 ter was lying, and then came back to 
 the Indian, with a beseeching air. 
 
 The Indian knew these signs well, 
 and perceiving that his assistance was 
 
54 
 
 parley’s story of 
 
 wanted, he seized his bow and arrows, 
 stuck a long knife in his belt, and set 
 out with the dog. The poor animal 
 seemed wild with impatience and de- 
 light. He bounded onward before 
 the Indian for a little distance, and 
 then came back, seeming, by every 
 sign and token of which he was mas- 
 ter, to urge him forward. 
 
 The Indian was generous and kind- 
 hearted ; and, knowing the forest well, 
 he strode forward amid the darkness 
 with a rapid step. He strained up 
 the sides of the hills ; and, in descend- 
 ing, he leaped from rock to rock, like 
 a squirrel. It was less than half an 
 hour after the departure of the faith- 
 
THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 55 
 
 ful dog, that the Indian was conducted 
 to the spot where poor Harry lay. 
 
 He had just recovered from the 
 shock of the fall, and was partly sit- 
 ting up. The Indian knew him, even 
 in the darkness, and as he loved both 
 him and his father, he took him gently 
 in his arms, and carried him to his 
 hut. 
 
 The poor boy was much bruised, 
 but the Indian’s wife took excellent 
 care of him ; and early the next morn- 
 ing, the Indian, placing him carefully 
 on his shoulders, carried him to his 
 father’s house, which was no less than 
 seven miles distant. 
 
STORY OF ROBERT SEABOY. 
 
 There are no objects in nature 
 more interesting than birds. They 
 please us more than flowers, for they 
 have life. We love them better than 
 the trees, or shrubs, or plants, for they 
 delight us with their merry songs. 
 We love them better than the four- 
 footed beasts, that move along the 
 ground, for they spread their wings, 
 and glide through the air like arrows. 
 
 But although we love the birds so 
 well, it is remarkable that many pea- 
 
STORY OF ROBERT SEABOY. 57 
 
 pie take delight in destroying them. 
 It is no doubt right to shoot birds 
 when we need them for food ; and we 
 may kill those that are mischievous. 
 But why should we do any injury to 
 the innocent blue birds, or the happy 
 little sparrows, or the cheerful robins, 
 or any other of those friendly and 
 confiding little creatures, that build 
 their nests in our orchards, and sing 
 their songs around our houses ? 
 
 I do not believe that any of my 
 little friends are either wicked or 
 cruel ; but they are perhaps thought- 
 less. During the last summer, I was 
 walking in a narrow lane, on a beauti- 
 ful afternoon. Nothing could be more 
 
58 parley’s story of 
 
 delightful than the air, and nothing 
 more beautiful than the green fields. 
 The insects were dancing in the sun- 
 beams ; the bees were sipping honey 
 from the flowers ; and the birds, all 
 around, were busily engaged in feeding 
 their young ones. 
 
 I pursued my walk for a long time ; 
 my mind being occupied with the 
 idea that every thing seemed full of 
 happiness and beauty. But, at length, 
 my ears were filled with the cries of 
 birds from a neighboring orchard. 1 
 heard the low wail of the blue bird, 
 the anxious note of the chipping bird, 
 the squalling of the cat bird, and the 
 short, hurried tones of the robin. 
 
ROBERT SEABOY. 
 
 59 
 
 “ What,” thought I, “ can be the 
 occasion of all this uproar ? Has 
 some snake stolen the young birds 
 from the nest ? or has a hawk come 
 down among them, and torn them to 
 pieces with his claws ?” 
 
 While I was thus wondering why 
 the poor birds seemed in such great 
 distress, I chanced to peep into the 
 orchard ; and then I discovered the 
 cause. Three or four boys were 
 there ; and one of them had a gun. 
 With this he had been shooting among 
 the birds, and had killed a great num- 
 ber. These were strung together 
 upon a stick ; and I could perceive 
 among them robins, sparrows, linnets, 
 
60 parley’s story of 
 
 blue birds, and many other kinds. 
 Some of them were young birds, but 
 most of them were old ones. It was 
 the season when the nests were full 
 of young ones ; and the parents being 
 killed, their little innocent offspring 
 were left to perish of hunger. 
 
 I was sorry to discover that these 
 little boys were some of my young 
 friends, of whom I had hoped better 
 things. I called them to me, and 
 begged them not to slay the inno- 
 cent birds. I described the young 
 ones in the nest, whose parents they 
 had killed. I described them waiting 
 for the return of those upon whom 
 they depended for life. I described 
 
ROBERT SEABOY. 
 
 61 
 
 them as opening their mouths, and 
 crying piteously for food. I described 
 them as wasting by degrees, until, at 
 length, after two or three days of suf- 
 fering, they would die. 
 
 The little boys listened to me at- 
 tentively, and tears of sorrow came 
 down their cheeks. They looked at 
 the little birds they had killed ; and 
 oh ! how ardently did they wish they 
 could give back to the little feath- 
 ered forms the life they had de- 
 stroyed ! But this wish was vain ; and 
 they could only resolve, in future, 
 never wantonly to take the life of a 
 bird. 
 
 I think this a matter of so much 
 
62 parley’s story of 
 
 consequence, that I beg my little read- 
 ers to give me their promise never to 
 rob a bird’s nest, or harm a bird, but 
 with good cause. I beg them all to be 
 the friends, not the enemies of birds ; 
 to love them, as little creatures that 
 God has made to hover in the sweet 
 air of spring and summer ; to sing 
 their songs among the trees and bush- 
 es ; to feed upon the insects, seeds and 
 berries ; to rear their young ; to live 
 lives of joy and happiness, and to 
 render the landscape more lively and 
 more interesting to us all. Let us 
 not then spoil the work, and interfere 
 with the plan, of that good Being, 
 whose works are so wonderful, and 
 
ROBERT SEA.BOY. 
 
 63 
 
 who in goodness and wisdom has made 
 them all. 
 
 To make you all better remember 
 what I have said, I will tell you a sto- 
 ry of Robert Seaboy. He related it to 
 me himself ; and I will give it as nearly 
 as I can in his own words. 
 
 STORY OF THE BIRD ROBBER. 
 
 “ I lived, as you know, at Newbury- 
 port, about forty miles from Boston. 
 My father was the captain of a ves- 
 sel, and, during my childhood, spent 
 a great part of his time at sea. My 
 mother was very kind to me, and per- 
 mitted me to do almost every thing 
 that I liked. 
 
64 parley’s story of 
 
 When I was about eight or ten 
 years old, though I went to school, I 
 had a good deal of time for play and 
 amusement. I used to walk in the 
 fields and woods, and nothing delighted 
 me so much as the birds. I would 
 often pause in my walks, and look at 
 them for hours, as they were busy in 
 smoothing their feathers, sporting 
 amid the trees, singing their songs, or 
 building their nests. 
 
 There were two birds that particu- 
 larly attracted my attention : these 
 were a pair of blue birds, that had 
 built their nests in the hollow trunk of 
 a tree in the edge of the forest. I 
 loved the notes of these birds, for 
 
ROBERT SEABOY. 
 
 65 
 
 they were soft and gentle ; and though 
 they made me sad, they yet gave me 
 pleasure. 
 
 I paid frequent visits to the blue 
 birds’ nests ; and one day, I ascended 
 the tree, and peeped into the hole 
 where the young ones lay. There 
 were five of them, and they opened 
 their little mouths as if they expected 
 I would give them something to eat. 
 They were very pretty, and I had a 
 great desire to carry them home ; but 
 the old birds came around, and pleaded 
 so sadly for their little ones, that I 
 went away and left them in the nest. , 
 
 The next day, I told the story to 
 
 one of my companions. He laughed 
 5 
 
66 
 
 parley’s story of 
 
 at my scruples, and told me that he 
 had often taken young birds from the 
 nest, and that there was no harm in 
 it. This changed my feelings ; and I 
 determined to pay a visit to the woods 
 the next day, and get the young blue 
 birds. 
 
 Although it was the Sabbath, I did 
 not forget my plan. I was dressed 
 for church, and my mother supposed 
 that I set off to go to the house of 
 worship. But I turned aside, and 
 very wickedly went to the woods. I 
 climbed the tree, and took the young 
 birds from the place where they had 
 been bred. Their parents wailed 
 piteously ; and as I knelt upon the 
 
ROBERT SEABOY. 
 
 67 
 
 ground, admiring the little captives, 
 the mother came quite near, and 
 shrieked as if her heart would break. 
 She seemed to pray me not to carry 
 away her children ; not to rob her of 
 those she loved best. I was deaf to 
 these cries, and with a beating heart 
 bore away my prize. 
 
 My mother rebuked me severely 
 for my conduct. In the first place, 
 she told me, I had violated the Sab- 
 bath, and in the next place, had done 
 a cruel deed. I felt very sorry, but 
 yet I kept the little birds ; and they 
 seemed to reward me for the pain I 
 had suffered from my mother’s dis- 
 pleasure. I fed them with great care, 
 
68 parley’s story of 
 
 and at night put them in a basket for 
 safety. In the morning, I woke early, 
 and went to see my little birds. Alas ! 
 they were all dead ! The food I had 
 given them, or separation from their 
 parents, had caused the death of these 
 little innocent creatures. 
 
 I wept bitterly, and, for years after- 
 wards, I often thought of this cruel 
 action. I had a sort of fear that 
 something would happen to punish 
 me for it. At length an event took 
 place, which I have sometimes be- 
 lieved was, in some degree, a return 
 for my cruelty. 
 
 When I was fourteen years old, my 
 father took me to sea. We sailed 
 
ROBERT SEABOY. 
 
 69 
 
 across the Atlantic Ocean, and en- 
 tered the Mediterranean. This sea 
 was frequented at that time by sea- 
 robbers, called corsairs. One day, 
 we were met by a corsair vessel, and 
 a sharp battle followed. I was on the 
 deck of our vessel, when some of the 
 pirates sprang from their own ship, 
 and entered ours. They were soon 
 driven back ; but one of the pirates 
 laid his strong arm around my waist, 
 and sprang back into his vessel. 
 
 The robbers, finding it impossible 
 to take our ship, retreated, carry- 
 ing me with them. My father was in 
 the greatest distress ; and I heard him 
 shouting, and giving orders for the 
 
70 
 
 parley’s story of 
 
 pursuit. But this was all in vain. 
 The robbers escaped, and 1 was car- 
 ried into captivity. For nearly two 
 years, 1 remained at Algiers, suffering 
 great cruelty and hardship. 
 
 At length, I was released, and re- 
 turned to my parents. I was now 
 happy ; but during my captivity, I 
 frequently dwelt upon my cruelty to 
 the little blue birds ; and I suffered 
 the more keenly from remembering, 
 that I had as little mercy upon these 
 helpless creatures, as the Algerines had 
 upon me.” 
 
 Such is the story of Robert Sea- 
 boy. And though I do not suppose, 
 that all children, who are cruel to 
 
ROBERT SEABOY. 
 
 71 
 
 birds, will fall into the hands of pi- 
 rates, still my young readers may rest 
 assured, that cruelty to birds, as well 
 as other crimes, will deprive them of 
 that peace of mind, which is the best 
 comfort in the hour of distress. 
 
STORY OF THE ORPHANS. 
 
 A few years ago, there were two 
 boys in Maryland, named Edward and 
 Edwin. They were of the same age, 
 and often played together, but their 
 situations were very different. 
 
 The father of Edwin was rich. He 
 had a fine house, fine carriages, and 
 fine horses. Edwin was his only child, 
 and he enjoyed every luxury. He had 
 servants to attend upon him constantly, 
 and gratify every want or wish. His 
 clothes were of the finest sort, and 
 

STORY OF THE ORPHANS. 73 
 
 he was supplied with a great many 
 pleasing toys from New York, London, 
 and Paris. 
 
 The father of little Edward was 
 poor, and he lived in a small brown 
 house, at no great distance from the 
 splendid mansion in which Edwin 
 dwelt. It was indeed but little more 
 than a hut, and though it was comfort- 
 able, it was destitute of all that was 
 not absolutely necessary to subsistence. 
 The furniture consisted of a few chairs, 
 a single table, a bed, a mattress for 
 little Edward, and a few other needful 
 articles. 
 
 But although Edward’s father was 
 poor, he was industrious, and obtained 
 
74 parley’s story of 
 
 a comfortable livelihood by working in 
 the garden of Edwin’s father. He was 
 fond of his son, and often took him to 
 the garden with him. Here the little 
 boy spent his time in pulling up 
 weeds, in forming little beds of earth 
 for flowers, and in other similar 
 occupations. Sometimes Edwin came 
 into the garden, and then the two boys 
 played together. 
 
 In this way, an intimacy grew up 
 between the children, and they soon 
 became very fond of each other. As 
 soon as breakfast was over, they both 
 resorted to the garden, and there they 
 spent their time very happily together. 
 They did not like to be apart, and 
 
THE ORPHANS. 
 
 75 
 
 when there happened to be a rainy 
 day, Edwin felt so uneasy, that Edward 
 was sent for, and they spent the day 
 together in the play-room. 
 
 The characters and dispositions of 
 these two children were naturally alike. 
 They were both lively, amiable, kind- 
 hearted and generous. But at length 
 they became changed by the manner 
 in which they were treated. Edwin, 
 being indulged in all his wishes, 
 learned to think that nothing could 
 be denied him. Instead of growing 
 more amiable, on account of the many 
 blessings and pleasures he enjoyed, 
 he grew passionate, selfish, and disa- 
 greeable. He insisted upon being 
 preferred in every thing. 
 
76 parley’s story of 
 
 If Edward chanced to have a toy 
 which he wanted, he would snatch it 
 from his hands. If fruit was brought 
 to them, he would always have the 
 best, and sometimes he would take all 
 to himself. When he had a piece of 
 cake, he would often sit and eat it as 
 greedily as a puppy, and never give 
 a share of it to poor little Edward at 
 his side. 
 
 All this mean and selfish conduct on 
 the part of Edwin was overlooked ; 
 and though he was now a very disa- 
 greeable child, still a great deal of at- 
 tention was paid to him, because his 
 father was rich, and because he lived 
 in a fine house. 
 
THE ORPHANS. 
 
 77 
 
 It was very different with Edward. 
 He was always treated as an inferior, 
 and was obliged to give way to Edwin 
 in every thing. His wishes and pleas- 
 ures were not allowed to interfere, in 
 the slightest degree, with those of Ed- 
 win. Whatever he might chance to 
 possess, he was required to relinquish 
 it the instant that Edwin desired it. 
 Whatever he might be doing, he was 
 immediately forced to change his plan, 
 if Edwin wished him to do something 
 else. 
 
 Instead of resenting this treatment, 
 Edward became more patient and for- 
 bearing. He loved little Edwin, and 
 though he felt that he was sometimes 
 
78 parley’s story of 
 
 treated with injustice, he still submit- 
 ted to it without repining. If Edwin 
 snatched an apple or a peach from his 
 hand, when he was about to taste it, 
 he said nothing, and quietly permitted 
 the greedy boy to devour it. 
 
 Even when he was very hungry, if 
 Edwin took his little crust of bread 
 from his hand, and ate it before his 
 face, he smiled kindly, and seemed to 
 say, “ My dear boy, if my poor crust 
 of bread can give you pleasure, you 
 are most welcome to it.” 
 
 Thus you see that Edwin was now 
 a spoiled child, while Edward was^ a 
 good, kind and amiable boy. They 
 were both good once ; but Edwin had 
 
THE ORPHANS. 
 
 79 
 
 been indulged, and this indulgence had 
 made him passionate, selfish and disa- 
 greeable. Edward, on the contrary, 
 by being trained in the habit of giving 
 up his wishes to another, had become 
 even more gentle and generous. 
 
 Thus you see, my little friends, that 
 indulgence is bad for children, and 
 being made to give up their wishes is 
 good for them. I beg you to remem- 
 ber, therefore, that when your parents 
 deny you any gratification, it is for 
 your good that they deny it ; and if 
 they require you to forego any pleas- 
 ure, it is for your good that they re- 
 quire it. 
 
 Remember the story of Edwin and 
 
80 parley’s story of 
 
 Edward, and recollect, that indulgence 
 makes children selfish, greedy, passion- 
 ate and disagreeable, and that the habit 
 of giving way to another, trains the 
 little heart in ways of gentleness, meek- 
 ness and charity. 
 
 After a few years, the parents of 
 both the little boys, of whom I have 
 been telling you, were dead. Ed- 
 ward was left in a state of absolute 
 poverty ; but Edwin inherited the large 
 estate of his father, and was therefore 
 very rich. 
 
 He continued still to like the com- 
 pany of his young friend, and the poor 
 boy was therefore permitted to live in 
 his house, but in a very humble capaci- 
 
THE ORPHANS. 
 
 81 
 
 ty. ' He was indeed rather the servant 
 of Edwin ; but he was so kind, active 
 and attentive, that Edwin could not live 
 without him. 
 
 Thus the boys grew up together, 
 until they were fifteen years of age. 
 Their characters remained nearly the 
 same, except that Edwin grew more 
 and more selfish, passionate and un- 
 reasonable, while Edward became still 
 more gentle in his manners, and more 
 generous in his temper. 
 
 He was indeed a noble boy ; and 
 though he was poor, ill-dressed and 
 destitute, still no one could look upon 
 his amiable face, or listen to his kind 
 
 voice, or mark his frank and hearty 
 6 
 
82 
 
 parley’s story of 
 
 manners, without loving and admiring 
 him. On the contrary, though Ed- 
 win was richly dressed, and well fed, 
 and surrounded by attentive servants, 
 no one could observe his angry face, 
 and his pouting lips, or listen to his 
 sharp, spiteful voice, without feeling a 
 sentiment of strong dislike. 
 
 The two orphans thus went on till 
 they were about sixteen years of age. 
 It was at this period that a serious 
 accident happened, which displayed 
 their characters in a striking manner. 
 
 They were on a journey to the 
 western part of Virginia. Having 
 stopped one evening amidst the Alle- 
 ghany mountains, the boys wandered 
 
THE ORPHANS. 
 
 83 
 
 from the house to a considerable dis- 
 tance. The sun had set, but the twi- 
 light still rendered it almost as light as 
 day. They wandered along the banks 
 of a little river, shaded by woods, for 
 a considerable time, until, at length, 
 Edward thought it best to return. 
 
 But Edwin was delighted with the 
 ramble, and would not go back. In 
 vain did Edward represent that it was 
 getting late, that they were far from 
 home, and that there was danger of 
 their getting lost in the woods. 
 
 Thus they continued to proceed for 
 some time, until it was quite dark. 
 Edwin now consented to return ; but, 
 instead of following the stream, which 
 
84 parley’s story of 
 
 would have guided them back in safe- 
 ty, he attempted to go back by a short- 
 er route. Edward warned him of the 
 danger of such a step ; but he obsti- 
 nately persisted in his course. 
 
 The two boys were soon lost in the 
 woods, and surrounded with perfect 
 darkness. They found it impossible 
 to proceed, and, at length, were forced 
 to sit down from fatigue. But by and 
 by, the moon rose, and they again at- 
 tempted to go forward. Though Ed- 
 win had been the cause of their pres- 
 ent difficulty, Edward did not now re- 
 proach him with it. 
 
 On the contrary, he cheered his 
 young friend by speaking in a gay and 
 
THE ORPHANS. 
 
 85 
 
 pleasant manner, by helping him over 
 the rocks and fallen trees, and by tell- 
 ing lively and humorous stories. But 
 in spite of his efforts, Edwin was in 
 the worst possible humor ; he spoke 
 roughly to his friend, accused him of 
 being the cause of their present dan- 
 ger, and finally sat down in a little open 
 space, absolutely refusing to go any 
 farther. 
 
 In vain did Edward attempt to rouse 
 him ; he would not stir, but continued 
 to rail at his companion, calling him 
 all sorts of names, and upbraiding him 
 with every species of abuse. Edward 
 did not resent this, but left him for a 
 moment, to go in search of a path 
 
86 parley’s story of 
 
 through the woods. He had gone but 
 a short distance, when he heard Edwin 
 cry for help. He flew back in an in- 
 stant, and, by the bright light of the 
 moon, saw his friend in a situation of 
 the greatest peril. 
 
 He was sitting upon the ground ; 
 and, at the distance of a few yards, a 
 panther was crouched upon the ground, 
 ready to spring upon him. Edwin 
 was unable to move from fright, but 
 gazed with a wild look of terror 
 upon the glaring eyes of the fierce 
 animal. 
 
 Edward did not hesitate a moment. 
 He sprung forward like an arrow, and 
 placed himself between the panther 
 
THE ORPHANS. 
 
 87 
 
 and his affrighted friend. For a mo- 
 ment, the animal was alarmed, and 
 drew back ; then, with a terrible howl, 
 he rushed upon Edward. So violent 
 was the bound, that Edward was 
 thrown to the earth ; and the claws 
 and teeth of the panther were fastened 
 in his body. But he was a powerful 
 young man ; and, seizing the beast by 
 the throat, he nearly choked him to 
 death. * 
 
 The struggle continued for some 
 time. Edwin was too much frightened 
 to stir from his seat upon the ground, 
 and Edward was left to his fate. But, 
 full of courage, he exerted himself to 
 the utmost ; and, finally, taking a 
 
88 parley’s story of 
 
 knife from his pocket, he plunged it in 
 the panther’s side, and, reaching his 
 heart, killed him in an instant. With 
 a fierce howl, the creature let go his 
 hold, and fell at full length upon the 
 ground. 
 
 The noise of the strife had been 
 heard at a log-house which was near, 
 and some people soon came to the 
 spot. Edward was dreadfully torn; 
 and when the necessity of Exertion 
 was over, he fainted, and fell upon 
 the earth. He was carried to the hut, 
 and for a long time, he seemed near 
 death. 
 
 For the first time, Edwin seemed 
 touched with generous sentiments. 
 
THE ORPHANS. 
 
 89 
 
 He knew that Edward had suffered 
 through his fault ; and he remembered 
 that, at the very moment he was un- 
 justly reproaching his friend, he came 
 forward, and put his own life in danger, 
 to save him. 
 
 As he looked upon the pale and 
 deathlike countenance of Edward, 
 his heart was wrung with agony ; the 
 tears flowed fast down his cheeks ; 
 and, bending over his friend, he ex- 
 claimed, “ Edward, Edward, dear Ed- 
 ward, forgive me, forgive me. I have 
 been most unkind, most cruel. Oh, 
 do not die, do not look so deadly pale ! 
 Open your eyes, my dear friend ; look 
 upon me ; speak, forgive me ! Dear, 
 generous Edward, forgive me !” 
 
90 parley’s story of 
 
 At this moment, Edward opened his 
 eyes, and smiled upon his friend. It 
 was the happiest moment of his life. 
 It was the first instance of kindness 
 that had ever shone upon his heart 
 from Edwin. His faintness soon passed 
 away ; and though he remained sev- 
 eral weeks in confinement, he at length 
 recovered. 
 
 Edwin was his constant attendant 
 and careful nurse, during his confine- 
 ment ; and when they returned to Ma- 
 ryland, he divided his fortune with his 
 friend. 
 
 Thus, although, for a long time, Ed- 
 win was rendered selfish and cruel by 
 indulgence, still Edward’s generous 
 
THE ORPHANS. 
 
 91 
 
 conduct made him perceive and feel 
 his wickedness, and restored him to 
 the influence of better feelings. 
 
 Now, the lessons to be drawn from 
 this story are these ; that indulgence 
 is bad for children, and may even 
 spoil a good boy or good girl ; and 
 that a poor boy, who is kind and good, 
 is better loved, and more worthy of at- 
 tention, than a rich boy, who is cross 
 and selfish. 
 
STORY OF THE LITTLE WANDERERS. 
 
 I will now tell you a story of what 
 took place many years ago. I sup- 
 pose you remember that in the coun- 
 try where we now live, there were 
 once a good many red people, called 
 Indians. They did not cut down the 
 trees, and plough the land, and build 
 houses, and have gardens, as we do ; 
 on the contrary, these people suffered 
 the forests to grow, and lived by hunt- 
 ing bears, deer, and other animals, 
 which roamed among them. 
 
THE LITTLE WANDERERS. 
 
 93 
 
 For a long time, the Indians lived 
 alone, and possessed the whole coun- 
 try ; the mountains, the rivers, the 
 lakes and the valleys were all theirs. 
 But, at length, the white people came, 
 and settled among them. At first, 
 the Indians were kind and friendly : 
 they gave the white people food ; they 
 gave them land, and did what they 
 could to make them comfortable and 
 happy. 
 
 Then, many more white people 
 came, and by degrees, they increased, 
 till they became very numerous, and 
 took possession of a great deal of the 
 land. They cut down the trees, they 
 killed the wild animals, until at length 
 
94 parley’s story of 
 
 the red men found it difficult to ob- 
 tain wild game enough to live upon. 
 
 For this and other reasons, the In- 
 dians became the enemies of the 
 white people, and many cruel wars 
 took place in consequence. It was 
 during one of these wars that the 
 events happened which I am now going 
 to relate. They will show you, that, 
 although the red men were wild sav- 
 ages, living in the woods, and roaming 
 about in search of food, yet instances 
 of noble and generous feeling some- 
 times occurred among them. 
 
 There was a man by the name of 
 Gaylord, who lived near the present 
 town of Concord, in New Hampshire. 
 
THE LITTLE WANDERERS. 95 
 
 His house was made of logs, and 
 pleasantly situated in a little valley, 
 by the side of a small river. It was 
 seven miles from the dwelling of any 
 other white person, and the road to 
 the nearest settlement lay through the 
 thick forest. 
 
 But although Mr. Gaylord dwelt in 
 a place so lonely, still he did not feel 
 his solitude. He had a wife and two 
 children. These he loved very much, 
 and they saved him from feeling that 
 he was alone. 
 
 The two children were both of 
 them girls : one, named Jane, was nine 
 years old ; the other, named Laura, 
 was but five. They were both very 
 
96 
 
 PARLEY S STORY OF 
 
 pretty, and, what is better, they were 
 both very good. They loved their 
 parents, and it was their chief pleas- 
 ure to obey them. Jane, indeed, was 
 too fond of wandering in the woods, 
 and was a little impatient if her 
 mother would not allow her to ramble 
 about as much as she pleased. But 
 of this fault she was cured, in the way 
 I shall soon tell you. 
 
 Not far from Mr. Gaylord’s house, 
 there was an Indian, by the name of 
 Shaumut. He lived in a small hut, 
 made of the branches of trees, 
 covered over with turf. He was, on 
 the whole, a good and friendly man, 
 though, like the other Indians, he 
 
THE LITTLE WANDERERS. 97 
 
 dwelt in the forest, and lived in a 
 wild and savage manner. 
 
 Now, it happened that two bad white 
 men, who lived at the settlement, 
 seven or eight miles from Mr. Gay- 
 lord’s, knowing that he lived alone, 
 determined to rob him of what they 
 could get. Accordingly, one night 
 they came into his house, and carried 
 off several articles of considerable 
 value. They took what money he 
 had, his best clothes, and many other 
 things. They then left the house ; 
 and, the whole family being asleep, 
 they escaped in safety. 
 
 The thieves now went toward Shau- 
 
 l 
 
 mut’s house, taking care to drop one 
 
 7 
 
98 
 
 parley’s story of 
 
 or two of the articles as they passed 
 along. This was done, that if, in the 
 morning, the articles should be found, 
 Shaumut might be suspected of the 
 robbery. 
 
 When Mr. Gaylord arose in the 
 morning, he discovered the theft. It 
 was then the custom to lay every mis- 
 fortune to the Indians, and every 
 crime that was committed was of 
 course set down to their account. It 
 was but natural, therefore, that Mr. 
 Gaylord should impute the robbery to 
 them. After thinking of it a little 
 while, he determined to go to Shau- 
 mut’s hcuse, and see if he could dis- 
 cover the truth. While he was on his 
 
THE LITTLE WANDERERS. 99 
 
 way, he found the articles which the 
 rogues had dropped, and immediate- 
 ly concluded that Shaumut was the 
 thief. 
 
 He now turned on his heel, and 
 went back to his house. He then re- 
 paired to the white settlement, and told 
 the people what had happened. All 
 agreed that Shaumut was the robber 
 and no persons were more positive 
 than the two white men who had 
 themselves committed the crime. 
 
 It was determined that Shaumut 
 should be immediately punished ; and 
 four men, armed with guns, returned 
 with Mr. Gayjord to his house, for the 
 purpose of carrying this scheme into 
 
100 parley’s story of 
 
 execution. They waited until it was 
 dark, and then repaired to the scene 
 of action. Shaumut’s house, as I 
 have said before, consisted of sticks, 
 covered over with sods. It was a 
 kind of hut, called a wigwam. There 
 was no door, but the people passed 
 in and out through a small hole, by 
 getting down upon their hands and 
 knees. 
 
 It was about nine o’clock of a sum- 
 mer evening that Gaylord and his 
 companions surrounded the red man’s 
 abode. The Indian, with his wife 
 and two small children, was already 
 asleep. Not thinking of danger, they 
 were all reposing on their bear-skin 
 
THE LITTLE WANDERERS. 101 
 
 beds, enjoying that rest which the 
 hardy labors of their life rendered 
 doubly sweet. 
 
 Suddenly, the silence of the night 
 was broken by the sound of a mus- 
 ket. Shaumut heard the noise, and, 
 creeping out of his wigwam, was met 
 by Mr. Gaylord, who charged him 
 with the theft. Shaumut denied the 
 charge. “ Theft,” said he, “ is the 
 white man’s crime. The red man’s 
 hand may wield the tomahawk, or 
 pull the bowstring, but his fingers can- 
 not steal.” 
 
 But in spite of this declaration, 
 Gaylord and his friends, believing that 
 Shaumut was guilty, drove the Indian 
 
102 
 
 parley’s story of 
 
 and his family from their house, and 
 then set it on fire. At the same 
 time, they told him to leave the place, 
 and never return to it. Thus the 
 poor savage was forced to see his 
 dwelling place consumed, his wife 
 and children without a shelter, and 
 his own name branded with crime. 
 But he said nothing. He gloomily 
 plunged into the forest, and, followed 
 by his family, disappeared from the 
 little valley where he had so long 
 dwelt. 
 
 More than a year had passed away, 
 and the events which I have just re- 
 lated were forgotten. At this time, it 
 became necessary for Mr. Gaylord 
 
THE LITTLE WANDERERS. 103 
 
 and his wife to go to the village 
 which I have before mentioned. 
 They sat out early in the morning, 
 with the intention of returning at 
 night. Having given strict charge to 
 their children to remain at home, they 
 felt no anxiety, but went on their 
 long walk, with light steps and merry 
 hearts. 
 
 They had not been gone long, when 
 Jane proposed to her little sister to 
 take a short w r alk in the woods. 
 Laura objected to this, because their 
 parents had told them to stay at home. 
 But Jane said there could be no harm 
 in it ; they would go but a little way ; 
 they would soon come back, and no- 
 body would know it. 
 
104 parley’s story of 
 
 Laura at length consented, and the 
 two girls set out upon their ramble, 
 with the intention of returning very 
 soon. But the day was very pleasant, 
 and, it being now autumn, the trees 
 were shedding their nuts in great 
 abundance. The squirrels, who were 
 laying up their winter stores, were 
 leaping from bough to bough, and 
 filling the forest with their merry 
 voices. 
 
 The two children went on and on, 
 and two or three hours glided insen- 
 sibly away. At length, Laura, whose 
 heart had been ill at ease during the 
 walk, reminded her sister that they 
 must return. Accordingly, they set 
 
THE LITTLE WANDERERS. 105 
 
 out to go back ; but they soon missed 
 their way. 
 
 They wandered about for some 
 time, and neither dared to say to the 
 other that they were lost. But, at 
 length, they looked in each other’s 
 faces, and began to cry. For some 
 time, they remained at the foot of a 
 tree, lamenting their disobedience, and 
 expressing their anxiety to each oth- 
 er. But by and by they arose, and, 
 excited by their fear, they walked on 
 as fast as the thick trees and bushes 
 would permit. 
 
 At length, the day began to fade, 
 and night gradually settled over the 
 woods. The voices of the birds died 
 
106 parley’s story of 
 
 away ; the chattering of the squirrels 
 ceased. No sound was now heard 
 but the crackling of the leaves and 
 sticks beneath the feet of the wander- 
 ers. But these now seemed a great 
 deal louder than before ; and their 
 hearts beat with fear at the sounds 
 which they themselves created. But 
 still they pushed on, until the dark- 
 ness, with the thick woods, rendered 
 it impossible for them to proceed. 
 
 Overcome with fatigue, they sat 
 down, and both of them wept bitterly. 
 Seated by the side of a rock, and 
 folded in each other’s arms, they re- 
 mained until sleep came to their re- 
 lief. With the rock for a pillow, they 
 
THE LITTLE WANDERERS. 107 
 
 slept till morning ; and so quiet and 
 innocent did they seem, that the birds 
 came around them, and a robin 
 alighted upon Jane’s shoulder. In 
 this situation, he began his song ; but 
 the loud note, as it rang in the ear of 
 the young sleeper, woke her from her 
 dream. 
 
 She sprang to her feet ; but for a 
 moment, she could not recollect where 
 she was. On looking around, she 
 perceived the thick woods ; and then, 
 glancing her eye at little Laura, who 
 was still sleeping, she remembered 
 their dreary situation, and the tears 
 again filled her eyes. 
 
 While she was standing by her sis- 
 
108 parley’s story of 
 
 ter, hesitating what course to pursue, 
 she heard a crackling in the leaves, 
 as if some one approached. Her 
 first feeling was that of joy, for she 
 believed that her father was coming 
 to her relief. But what was her dis- 
 may when she saw an Indian come 
 rapidly up to her, and discovered him 
 to be no other than Shaumut! Know- 
 ing what had happened between her 
 father and him, she expected that 
 the angry savage would put Laura 
 and herself to death. But we shall 
 see that the red man’s revenge was of 
 a very different nature. 
 
 I must now tell you that the parents 
 of the two children returned at even- 
 
THE LITTLE WANDERERS. 109 
 
 ing, and found their house vacant. 
 In vain did they call for Jane and 
 Laura; in vain did they search the 
 woods, and shout from every little hill 
 around the valley. The night was 
 spent in a fruitless search, and the 
 morning came, but still the children 
 were not to be found. 
 
 The succeeding day had passed, 
 and the disconsolate parents were 
 sitting at their open door. Suddenly, 
 Shaumut appeared before them with 
 Jane and Laura. He stood apart, 
 and witnessed the meeting of the pa- 
 rents with their children. 
 
 When the first tears and kisses 
 were over, the Indian placed himself 
 
no 
 
 parley’s story of 
 
 before Mr. Gaylord, and said, “ White 
 man, listen. You supposed I had 
 done you wrong. You were mista- 
 ken. But still you set my wigwam on 
 fire, and sent me and my family to 
 seek a house and a home beneath the 
 cold shelter of the oak. You drove 
 me from the land of my fathers, and 
 bestowed upon me the names of rob- 
 ber and thief. Behold a red man’s 
 revenge ! I met your children in the 
 wilderness. I could have carried 
 them away, and made your heart as 
 desolate as you have made mine. But 
 I did not do it. I have brought your 
 children back. I restore them to 
 you ; and now, I say farewell.” 
 
THE LITTLE WANDERERS. Ill 
 
 The red man then turned away ; 
 and before Mr. Gaylord could make 
 any reply, he was lost amid the thick 
 branches of the trees. 
 
 
STORY OF ALICE GRAY. 
 
 There was once a little girl by the 
 name of Alice Gray. She lived in 
 the state of New York, not far from 
 the Mohawk river. Her father was a 
 wealthy merchant, and dwelt in a 
 very pretty house, situated on the bor- 
 der of a small lake. 
 
 The situation of little Alice might 
 have been deemed very pleasant. 
 She was an only child, and both pa- 
 rents were extremely fond of her. It 
 was their greatest pleasure to take 
 
STORY OF ALICE GRAY. 113 
 
 care of her, and do whatever might be 
 necessary for her present pleasure or 
 future happiness. She was provid- 
 ed with good clothes, a great many 
 pleasing books, and a multitude of 
 pretty toys. 
 
 But notwithstanding the care and 
 pains bestowed upon her, I am sorry 
 to say, that little Alice was not. alto- 
 gether happy. She had what is called 
 an uneasy and restless temper. She 
 was dissatisfied with every thing 
 around her. A new doll pleased her, 
 perhaps, for a little while, and then 
 she was anxious for something else. 
 A new book would engage her atten- 
 tion till she had seen all the pictures, 
 
114 parley’s story of 
 
 and then she wanted another. A 
 new basket was a favorite ; and she 
 would carry it on her arm, and talk 
 of it to every body for half an hour ; 
 but it was then thrown aside, and she 
 would then tease her mother to buy 
 her such a basket as her cousin 
 Jane’s. 
 
 Such was the character of little 
 Alice Gray ; and you may well believe 
 it gave her mother great anxiety and 
 distress. She perceived that, if in- 
 dulged, this restless disposition, this 
 constant craving for something new, 
 and something more beautiful than 
 she possessed, would bring unhap- 
 piness upon her whole life, and 
 
ALICE GRAY. 
 
 115 
 
 make her a source of trouble to all 
 around her. She felt that nothing is 
 more disagreeable than a person, 
 whether young or old, who gets soon 
 tired of what is given to them, and 
 is perpetually seeking for something 
 which they cannot, or ought not to, 
 have. She therefore frequently talked 
 to Alice, and clearly pointed out the 
 error of her conduct. 
 
 Alice listened, but she was not 
 convinced. Like other children, she 
 thought she knew as much as her 
 mother ; or, perhaps, having little ex- 
 perience, she did not look forward to 
 the future, and see the store of sor- 
 row she was laying tip ; bat chose to 
 
116 parley’s story of 
 
 live, like the butterfly, for the pleasures 
 of to-day, without regard to the mor- 
 row. 
 
 I am sorry to tell you that, instead 
 of growing better, little Alice for a 
 time grew worse and worse, until at 
 length, whatever she saw, she wanted ; 
 and even things which she had never 
 seen, and only existed in her fancy, 
 were the objects of her desire. At 
 first, she wanted a little pony, and 
 that was procured for her ; then she 
 wanted a little wagon, and this also 
 was obtained. Then she desired a 
 pair of ponies, and a beautiful little 
 phaeton, and many other things. 
 
 These wishes were deemed alto- 
 
ALICE GRAY. 
 
 117 
 
 gether unreasonable by her parents, 
 and of course she was refused. Alice 
 wept and pouted for a time ; but soon 
 her fancy was running upon some- 
 thing else ; and thus her uneasiness, 
 though it frequently changed from one 
 thing to another, never ceased to an- 
 noy those around her. 
 
 I must now tell you about another 
 trait in the character of Alice Gray. 
 She used often to dream of things in 
 her sleep which appeared to her very 
 pleasant ; and then she would desire 
 to realize these dreams. 
 
 One night, she dreamt that she had 
 a little boat, and that she sailed in it 
 upon the lake near her father’s house. 
 
118 
 
 parley’s story of 
 
 The sensation of gliding over the wa- 
 ters, in her dream, was very pleasing ; 
 and when she awoke in the morning, 
 she was almost angry, that what 
 seemed so delightful should be only a 
 dream. As soon as she was dressed, 
 she flew to her mother, related her 
 dream, and begged that she might be 
 permitted to have a boat, and sail up- 
 on the water. 
 
 Mrs. Gray endeavored to dissuade 
 her daughter from indulging this wish. 
 She represented to her the danger of 
 sailing upon the water, and begged 
 her to think no more of it. But 
 Alice could find no pleasure in her 
 books, or her toys, or her studies, or 
 
ALICE GRAY. 
 
 119 
 
 her work. Her fancy was perpetu- 
 ally running upon the boat of her 
 dream, that floated over the waters 
 with a white sail, and seemed to bear 
 her along as if on wings. 
 
 Thus dissatisfied, she went moping 
 about ; and her mother, anxious to do 
 all in her power to please her child, 
 requested her father to have a little 
 boat made for her. 
 
 Now I must tell you that, in doing 
 this, Mrs. Gray acted very unwisely. 
 Children should not be indulged in 
 unreasonable wishes, for indulgence 
 does not cure unreasonableness ; on 
 the contrary, like water put upon 
 weeds, which makes them flourish, it 
 
120 parley’s story of 
 
 renders the disposition worse. The 
 weeds, if the water was withheld, 
 might wither and perish, and whole- 
 some plants, and beautiful flowers, 
 grow up in their place ; and so if a 
 child’s unreasonable wishes were not 
 nourished by indulgence, they would 
 cease to exist, and better feelings 
 would spring up in the heart. 
 
 But I must tell you of the boat. 
 A carpenter in the village was em- 
 ployed to make one. Alice was very 
 impatient, and could hardly wait two 
 days till it should be done. She 
 spoke of it constantly, and went sev- 
 eral times to the shop where it was 
 building. At length, the wood-work 
 
ALICE GRAY. 
 
 121 
 
 was done ; and then it was painted a 
 bright green, as Alice insisted upon 
 that color. Finally, it was finished ; a 
 mast was erected, a sail was attached 
 to it, and every thing necessary was 
 provided. At evening, it was taken 
 to the lake ; and oh, how beautifully it 
 danced upon the water ! 
 
 But, unhappily, it was too late for a 
 sail ; for when the boat was ready, it 
 had become quite dark. Alice would 
 have gone out in the boat, dark as it 
 was ; but she was obliged to give up 
 her wishes. She rose early in the 
 morning, impatient to try the boat ; 
 but the weather was stormy, and she 
 could not go. 
 
122 
 
 PARLEY’S STORY OF 
 
 She spent a miserable day ; her 
 wagon, her doll, the ball, the basket, 
 the books, were all tried, but they 
 gave her no pleasure. Finally, she 
 placed her hand upon the table, and 
 leaning her head upon it, went asleep, 
 and dreamed of her boat. At an 
 early hour, from mere uneasiness, she 
 went to bed, and, after a while, fell 
 asleep. 
 
 She immediately began to dream of 
 her boat. She imagined that the 
 weather was now fair ; that the boat 
 was all ready upon the lake ; that she 
 was standing by the water ; and that 
 the blue waves seemed to invite her 
 forth upon them. In her dream, her 
 
ALICE GRAY. 
 
 123 
 
 mother seemed by her side, and warned 
 her not to go. She told her of the 
 danger of venturing out in the boat 
 alone, and seemed to say, “ My 
 daughter, you do not know how to 
 manage the sail ; the wind may come 
 and overset the boat, and you may be 
 drowned ; and, therefore, I pray you, 
 my dear daughter, do not go in the 
 boat.” 
 
 Such was Alice’s dream, and it 
 seemed to her like reality. She re- 
 plied, or seemed to reply to her mother, 
 that she did not fear the danger ; that 
 the boat was now ready ; that the 
 weather was fair ; and that she would 
 no longer be hindered from gratifying 
 her wish. 
 
124 parley’s story of 
 
 Now, while Alice had been dream- 
 ing in this way, she had risen from 
 her bed, put on her clothes, and gone 
 down in her sleep to the border of the 
 lake. The night was dark, and it 
 was now nine o’clock in the evening ; 
 but the little girl went along without 
 harm, until she stood upon a rock, 
 by the side of which the boat was ly- 
 ing. 
 
 All this time, Alice, as I have said 
 before, was asleep, and she was dream- 
 ing, as I have told you. The rest of 
 the family had not yet retired ; but 
 Alice had passed out unobserved. 
 She was, therefore, alone by the wa- 
 ter, and no one knew of her situa- 
 tion. 
 
ALICE GRAY. 
 
 125 
 
 For some time, she stood upon the 
 rock, dreaming that her mother was 
 there, endeavoring to dissuade her 
 from entering the boat ; but, in 
 spite of all remonstrance, she stepped 
 to the edge of the rock, and, leaping 
 forward, sprung upon the side of the 
 boat. In an instant, it was upset, and 
 Alice was plunged into the water. 
 
 She awoke from her dream, and 
 screamed violently from fright. Her 
 voice was heard, and several persons 
 came to her assistance. With much 
 difficulty she was rescued from the 
 waves, and carried to the house. 
 She was nearly drowned, and for some 
 time was in a state of insensibility. 
 
126 parley’s story of 
 
 At length, she recovered, and slept 
 quietly through the night. 
 
 When she awoke in the morning, 
 she began to reflect upon her conduct. 
 “ How eagerly,” said she to herself, 
 “ did I wish for this boat ! and yet what 
 trouble and danger it has brought up- 
 on me ! Alas ! I have done very wrong. 
 I will go to my mother, confess my er- 
 ror, and do so no more.” 
 
 Accordingly, Alice arose, and with 
 many tears acknowledged her fault. 
 Her mother spoke to her kindly, and 
 promised forgiveness. “ But,” said 
 she, “ remember, my dear Alice, the 
 lesson which this late event has taught 
 you. Remember to be contented 
 
ALICE GRAY. 
 
 127 
 
 with what is reasonable, and set not 
 your heart upon things beyond your 
 reach. Remember your little boat; 
 and if you are ever tempted to indulge 
 in improper wishes, or improper 
 pleasures, recollect your dream, and 
 your ducking in the lake ! 
 
STORY OF THE UMBRELLA AND THE 
 TIGER. 
 
 There is a e< s try very far to the 
 east, called Inc: ■ It is impossible 
 to visit this county, but by going in a 
 vessel. Many pjffSy go there every 
 year from Boston. .trB they bring back 
 with them variou ^ articles of mer- 
 chandise. They bring indigo, which 
 is used for dyeing cloth of a blue color, 
 silk goods of many kinds, and beauti- 
 ful shawls, made from the wool of 
 sheep, that are found in the moun- 
 tains. 
 
THE UMBRELLA AND THE TIGER. 129 
 
 The inhabitants of India are of a 
 dark color, sombwhat like our Ameri- 
 can Indians. Some of them dwell in 
 costly houses, which are ornamented 
 with gold and silver ; but the greater 
 part live in small huts, made of sticks, 
 and covered with leaves. The weather 
 is always warm ; and these slight shel- 
 ters are sufficient to protect the people 
 who inhabit them. 
 
 The trees and plants in India are 
 very different from those in our coun- 
 try. Apples, pears and peaches do 
 not grow there, or are uncommon ; 
 but oranges, lemons, figs, and many 
 other delicious fruits, are abundant. 
 
 The animals of India differ as 
 
130 parley’s story of the 
 
 much from ours as the trees. The 
 elephant, which is the largest four- 
 footed beast, is very common. It is 
 found in a wild state, among the val- 
 leys and plains. It is frequently 
 caught by the inhabitants, and when 
 tamed becomes very useful. It will 
 carry people on its back, as well as a 
 horse, and several persons will often 
 perform a journey together upon one 
 of these creatures. 
 
 The rhinoceros is another very cu- 
 rious animal, found in India. It is 
 twice as large as the biggest ox, and 
 has a skin so thick, that a bullet, shot 
 from a gun, will not enter it. It has 
 a large horn upon its nose, with which 
 
UMBRELLA AND THE TIGER. 131 
 
 it fights the elephant. It is a very 
 strong creature, and will walk about 
 upon the bottom of a river, with the 
 water above his head. He is fond of 
 rolling in the mud, and behaves very 
 much like a hog. He is very harm- 
 less, and, like the elephant, will run 
 away from a man, as fast as he can 
 scamper. 
 
 Another interesting animal of India 
 is the antelope. This little crea- 
 ture is of a reddish brown color, 
 and has long slender legs, like those 
 of a deer. It has a full black eye, 
 and, when tamed, becomes as gentle 
 as a lamb. It will eat from your 
 hand, and follow you from place to 
 
132 parley’s story of the 
 
 place, and seem as fond of you as a 
 dog. But it is a very timid creature, 
 and, when frightened, flies over the 
 ground with the greatest swiftness. 
 
 Beside these, there are many other 
 interesting animals in India. There 
 are apes and monkeys, which make 
 the woods ring with their clatter ; wild 
 buffaloes, as large as oxen, and beau- 
 tiful leopards, with spotted skins ; but 
 I have only time at present to give 
 you a particular account of the tiger. 
 
 This animal is much larger than a 
 dog, and is shaped like a cat. Its 
 skin is of a yellow color, beautifully 
 marked with black stripes. Its claws 
 are sharp, and its teeth are strong ; and 
 
UMBRELLA AND THE TIGER. 133 
 
 it is therefore able to kill the ante- 
 lope, the deer, the goat, and other an- 
 imals, upon which it preys. 
 
 The people of India are afraid of 
 the tiger ; and they often go to 
 hunt it. When one is known to be 
 lurking in the bushes or grass, some 
 men will approach it, mounted upon 
 the back of an elephant. Having 
 guns loaded with bullets, they wait 
 till the animal springs at the elephant, 
 or shows himself crouching in the 
 thicket ; they then fire, and usually 
 kill him. Sometimes, he is only 
 wounded, and then he howls and 
 fights terribly. 
 
 Tigers are sometimes brought from 
 
134 parley’s story of the 
 
 India to this country. They are kept 
 in strong cages, and are shown to 
 people who pay the keeper for the 
 sight. These tigers always appear 
 very restless, and seem to be anxious 
 to get out of the cage. But it would 
 not do to let them out, for they are 
 very fierce, and might do some mis- 
 chief. These tigers are caught when 
 they are young. They are then gen- 
 tle and harmless, like kittens. You 
 may hold one in your hand, and he 
 will not either scratch or bite. 
 
 The way that young tigers are ta- 
 ken is as follows. A man goes to the 
 tiger’s den when the mother is away, 
 and carries off the young ones, of 
 
UMBRELLA AND THE TIGER. 135 
 
 which there are generally three or 
 four. Pretty soon, the tigress comes 
 back to her den, and finds that some 
 one has stolen her children. She 
 runs about smelling the ground, and 
 roaring fiercely. 
 
 Pretty soon she smells the track of 
 the thief, and sets off to pursue him at 
 a rapid pace. The man sees her 
 coming, and drops one of the little 
 tigers upon the ground. The mother 
 comes up, takes the young one in her 
 mouth, and carries it back to the den. 
 She then returns to the pursuit. 
 
 When she approaches again, the 
 man lays down another of the young 
 ones. In this way, he proceeds till 
 
136 parley’s story of the 
 
 he has got beyond the reach of the 
 fierce brute, usually having saved one 
 or two of the little tigers. These are 
 sold to some persons from America, 
 who put them on board a ship, and 
 they come to this country. 
 
 But although the tiger is very 
 strong, it is destitute of courage. It 
 is, indeed, very much like a cat, being 
 fond of slaying animals it can conquer, 
 but very easily frightened by man. I 
 will tell you a story which will show 
 you how very timid the tiger some- 
 times is. 
 
 There was once an Englishman 
 who lived in India, near a broad riv- 
 er. Along the banks of this river. 
 
UMBRELLA AND THE TIGER. 137 
 
 the scenery was very beautiful, and it 
 was common for the people to walk 
 there for pleasure. The Englishman 
 had a daughter about eight years old. 
 One day, a cousin of hers, who lived at 
 a considerable distance, came to pay 
 her a visit. 
 
 The two girls were nearly of the 
 same age, and they were very happy 
 in each other’s company. They 
 played and chatted some time together 
 in the house ; then they went into the 
 garden, where they picked some or- 
 anges and figs, and ate them. Finally, 
 they concluded to go and walk on 
 the bank of the river. As the sun 
 was very hot, they took an umbrella 
 
138 parley’s story of the 
 
 to shelter them ; a custom very com- 
 mon and necessary in India. 
 
 Walking side by side, they pro- 
 ceeded to the bank of the river ; and 
 for some time, they walked back and 
 forth, greatly delighted with the 
 smooth water, and the beautiful trees 
 which shaded its borders. At length, 
 they were tired, and sat down to rest 
 themselves. Reclined on the grass, 
 they remained for a long time ; and 
 then they began to gather the flowers 
 around them ; and thus they amused 
 themselves for more than an hour. 
 
 By and by, one of them heard a 
 noise in the grass, at a little distance. 
 She looked around ; but at first she 
 
UMBRELLA AND THE TIGER. 139 
 
 could see nothing. Pretty soon, she 
 saw the grass gently laid aside ; and 
 through the opening, she discovered 
 the large, glaring eyes of a tiger. 
 The animal was crouching upon the 
 ground, but was slowly and slyly ap- 
 proaching her and her companion. 
 
 The little girl knew that the animal 
 would spring in a moment, and that 
 whatever was done for safety must be 
 done instantly. The umbrella was at 
 her side, lying upon the ground. She 
 took it up, and pointed it toward the 
 tiger. He was now very close, and 
 she opened it suddenly in his face. 
 
 Nothing could exceed his fright. 
 He started aside with a violent leap, 
 
140 THE UMBRELLA AND THE TIGER. . 
 
 plunged into the long grass, and dis- 
 appeared from the place. The little 
 girls, thus delivered from their danger, 
 ran home as fast as they could to tell 
 the story. 
 
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