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The Pearl Box by A Pastor

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be convinced that what looked so much like a real bird was only an
ingenious combination of sticks and painted paper.


There are a great many novel sights in the streets of London, for the
cheap entertainment of the people. The family circle of different
animals and birds is an admirable illustration of the peace which should
pervade among families. The proprietor of this novel menagerie calls it,
"The Happy Family." The house in which they are kept is a simple
constructed cage. It is a large square hen-coop, placed on a low
hand-cart, which a man draws about from one street to another, and gets
a few pennys a day from those who stop to look at the domestic happiness
of his family. Perhaps the first thing you will see, is a large cat,
washing her face, with a number of large rats nestling around her, like
kittens, whilst others are climbing up her back and playing with her
whiskers. In another corner of the room a dove and a hawk are setting on
the head of a dog which is resting across the neck of a rabbit. The
floor is covered with the oddest social circles imaginable--weazles and
Guinea pigs, and peeping chickens, are putting their noses together,
caressingly. The perches above are covered with birds whose natural
antipathies have been subdued into mutual affection by the law of
kindness. The grave owl is sitting upright, and meditating in the sun,
with a keen-sighted sparrow perched between his ears trying to open the
eyes of the sleepy owl with its sharp bill.

Children stop to look at this scene, and Mr. Burritt thinks they may
carry away lessons which will do them good. They will think on it on
their way to school, and at home too, when any thing crosses their will
in family or on the play ground.


A poor sick man might go to the door of some rich person's house and ask
relief for himself and not be able to obtain admittance; but if he
brought in his hand a paper written by the son of the master of the
house, whom he had met with in a distant land, and in his name asked for
the relief, his request would be granted for the sake of the master's

Now we all need friends and every one tries to get and keep a few
friends. Children will love a little dog, or a lamb, or a dove, or a
bird. The little boy will talk to his top, and the little girl will talk
to her doll, which shows that they want a friend; and if the top and the
doll could talk and love them, they would feel happier.

Some years ago there was an Indian in the State of Maine, who for his
very good conduct had a large farm given him by the State. He built his
little house on his land, and there lived. The white people about him
did not treat him so kindly as they ought. His only child was taken sick
and died, and none of the whites went to comfort him, or to assist him
in burying his little child. Soon after, he went to the white people,
and said to them--"When white man's child die, Indian may be sorry--he
help bury him--when my child die, no one speak to me--I make his grave
alone. I can no live here, for I have no friend to love me."

The poor Indian gave up his farm, dug up the body of his child, and
carried it with him 200 miles through the forest, to join the Canada

The Indian loved his child, and he wanted friends. So you children will
need a friend to look to every day. When we are sick, in distress, or
about to die, we want a friend in whom we may trust and be happy.

* * * * *

Wherefore did God create passions within us, pleasures round about us,
but that these, rightly tempered, are the very ingredients of


Two little girls went into the fields to gather flowers. Buttercups,
violets, and many other blossoms were in abundance. One of the girls was
pleased with every thing, and began to pick such flowers as came in her
way. In a short time she collected a great quantity of flowers, and
though some of them were not very handsome, yet they made a very
beautiful bunch. The other child was more dainty and determined to get
her none but those which were very beautiful. The buttercups were all of
one color and did not strike her fancy--the blue violets were too
common, and so the little pair wandered on through the fields till they
were about to return home. By this time the dainty child, seeing that
her sister had a fine collection of flowers while she had none, began
to think it best to pick such as she could get. But now the flowers were
scarce; not even a dandelion nor a flower was to be found. The little
girl at length begged of her sister a single dandelion, and thus they
returned home. The children told their story, and their mother addressed
them thus--"My dear children, let this event teach you a lesson. Jane
has acted the wisest part. Content with such flowers as came in her way,
and not aiming at what was beyond her reach, she has been successful in
her pursuit. But Laura wanted something more beautiful than could be
found, collected nothing from the field, and was finally obliged to beg
a simple flower from her sister. So it is, children, in passing through
life--gather what is good and pleasant along your path, and you will,
day by day, collect enough to make you contented and happy. But if you
scorn those blessings which are common, and reach after those which are
more rare and difficult to be obtained, you will meet with frequent
difficulties, and at last be dependant on others. So gather the flowers
as you go along the pathway of life."

* * * * *

Think not all is well within when all is well without; or that thy
being pleased is a sign that God is pleased: but suspect every thing
that is prosperous, unless it promotes piety, and charity, and

* * * * *

God hath given to man a short time here upon earth, and yet upon this
short time eternity depends.--_Taylor_.



It is a mark of a good scholar to be prompt and studious. Such were the
habits of little Jane Sumner. She was the youngest of three sisters, and
from her first being able to read, she was very fond of reading; and at
school her teacher became much interested in little Jane on account of
her interest in study, and the promptness she manifested in reciting her
lessons. Jane had a quiet little home and was allowed considerable time
for study, although she had to devote some time in assisting her mother
about house.

There was a very fine garden attached to Mrs. Sumner's residence, where
she took much pleasure in cultivating the flowers. In the centre of the
garden was built a summer house all covered over with grape vine. The
broad leaves of the vine made a refreshing shade to it, and thereby
shielded the warm sun from persons under it. This little summer house
Jane frequently occupied for her study. In the picture you see her with
book in hand getting her lesson. She arose very early in the morning,
and by this means gained much time.

Up in the morning early,
By daylight's earliest ray,
With our books prepared to study
The lessons of the day.

Little Jane, for her industry and good scholarship, obtained quite a
number of "rewards of merit," which her schoolmates said she justly
deserved. There is one of them with these lines:

For conduct good and lessons learned,
Your teacher can commend;
Good scholarship has richly earned
This tribute from your friend.

On one day, she came running home very much pleased with her card,
which her teacher gave herself and her little sister Emma, for their
good conduct and attention to their studies. The card contained these

See, Father! mother, see!
To my sister and me,
Has our teacher given a card,
To show that we have studied hard.
To you we think it must be pleasant,
To see us both with such a present.

Every good boy and girl will be rewarded, and all such as are studious,
and respectful to their teachers, will always get a reward.

* * * * *

God never allowed any man to do nothing. How miserable is the condition
of those men who spend their time as if it were _given_ them, and not
lent.--_Bishop Hall_.


Now the golden ear wants the reaper's hand,
Banish every fear, plenty fills the land.
Joyful raise songs of praise,
Goodness, goodness, crowns our days.
Yet again swell the strain,
He who feeds the birds that fly,
Will our daily wants supply.


As the manna lay, on the desert ground,
So from day to day, mercies flow around.
As a father's love gives his children bread,
So our God above grants, and we are fed.

* * * * *

Think in the morning what thou hast to do this day, and at night what
thou hast done; and do nothing upon which thou mayest not boldly ask
God's blessing; nor nothing for which thou shalt need to ask his


There is a company of girls met together, and what can they be talking
about. Hark! "Now I will tell you something, if you'll promise never to
tell," says Jane. "I will, certainly," replied Anne. "And will you
promise _never_ to tell a single living creature as long as you live?"
The same reply is given, "_I will never tell_."

Now Jane tells the secret, and what is it? It turns out to be just
nothing at all, and there is no good reason why every body should'nt
know it. It is this--"Lizzy Smith is going to have a new bonnet, trimmed
with pink ribbon and flowers inside." Anna thinks no more of her solemn
promise, and the first school-mate she meets, she opens the secret, with
a solemn injunction for her not to tell. By and by the secret is all
out among the girls--the promises are all broken. Now, children,
remember your word--keep it true, and never make a promise which you do
not intend to keep, and always avoid telling foolish secrets.


One brilliant Christmas day, two little girls were walking towards a
neighboring village, when they observed a little creature walking about
the road. "Surely," said Mary, "it is a large mouse;" and it did not
seem to be afraid, so they thought from its tameness, it must be hungry.
"Poor little thing," said Agnes, "I wish I had something to give you."
She took a few almonds from her pocket and went gently along towards the
mouse and put it close by its side. The mouse began to nibble, and soon
finished it. Agnes then put down two or three more, and left the mouse
to eat its Christmas dinner. I think you would have enjoyed seeing the
mouse eating the almonds. I hope you will always be kind to poor dumb
animals. I have seen children who were cruel to dumb animals. This is
very wrong, and such children will never be respected, nor can they
expect to be befriended.


A few summers ago I was sitting on a garden seat, beneath a fruit tree,
where the works of nature look very beautiful. Very soon I heard a
strange noise among the highest branches of the tree over my head. The
sound was very curious, and I began to look for the cause. I shook one
of the lower branches within my reach, and very soon I discovered two
birds engaged in fighting; and they seemed to gradually descend towards
the ground. They came down lower and lower, tumbling over one another,
and fighting with each other. They soon reached the lowest branch, and
at last came to the ground very near me. It was with some difficulty
that I parted them; and when I held one of them in each of my hands,
they tried to get away, not because they were afraid of me but because
they would resume the conflict. They were two young robins, and I never
before thought that the robin had such a bad spirit in its breast. Lest
they should get to fighting again, I let one go, and kept the other
housed up for several days, so that they would not have much chance of
coming together again.

Now, children, these two little robins woke in the morning very
cheerful, and appeared very happy as they sat on the branch of the tree,
singing their morning songs. But how soon they changed their notes. You
would have been sorry to have seen the birds trying to hurt each other.

If children quarrel, or in any degree show an unkind temper, they appear
very unlovely, and forget that God, who made them, and gives them many
blessings, disapproves of their conduct. Never quarrel, but remember how
pleasant it is for children to love each other, and to try to do each
other good.

* * * * *

Every hour is worth at least a good thought, a good wish, a good



Down by the sea-coast is the pleasant town of Saco, where Mr. Aimes has
resided for many years. Once a year he had all his little nephews and
nieces visit him. It was their holiday, and they would think and talk
about the visit for a long time previous to going there. Their uncle
took much pleasure in making them happy as possible while they were with
him. He owned a pleasure sail boat which he always kept in good order.
On this occasion he had it all clean and prepared for the young friends,
as he knew they lotted much on having a sail. As his boat was small, he
took part of them at a time and went out with them himself, a short
distance, and sailed around the island, and returned. In the picture you
see them just going out, with their uncle at the helm, while three of
the nephews are on the beach enjoying the scene.

But I must tell you children to be very careful when you go on the water
to sail. There are some things which it is necessary for you to know, as
a great many accidents occur on the water for the want of right
management. When you go to sail, be sure and have persons with you who
understand all about a boat, and how to manage in the time of a squall.
Always keep your seats in the boat, and not be running about in it.
Never get to rocking a boat in the water. A great many people have lost
their lives by so doing. Sailing on the water may be very pleasant and
agreeable to you if you go with those who understand all about the
harbor, and are skilled in guiding the boat on the dangerous sea.


Yarmouth is the principal trade seaport town in the county of Norfolk.
Fishermen reside in the towns and villages around, and among the number
was a poor man and his wife; they had an only son, and when ten years
old his father died. The poor widow, in the death of her husband, lost
the means of support. After some time she said to her boy, "Johnny, I do
not see how I shall support you." "Then, mother, I will go to sea," he
replied. His mother was loth to part with Johnny, for he was a good son
and was very kind to her. But she at last consented on his going to sea.

John began to make preparations. One day he went down to the beach
hoping to find a chance among some of the captains to sail. He went to
the owner of one and asked if he wanted a boy. "No," he abruptly
replied, "I have boys enough." He tried a second but without success.
John now began to weep. After some time he saw on the quay the captain
of a trading vessel to St. Petersburg, and John asked him if "a boy was
wanted." "Oh, yes," said the captain, "but I never take a boy or a man
without a character." John had a Testament among his things, which he
took out and said to the captain, "I suppose this won't do." The captain
took it, and on opening the first page, saw written, "_John Read, given
as a reward for his good behavior and diligence in learning, at the
Sabbath School_." The captain said, "Yes, my boy, this will do; I would
rather have this recommendation than any other," adding, "you may go on
board directly." John's heart leaped for joy, as, with his bundle under
his arm, he jumped on board the vessel.

The vessel was soon under weigh, and for some time the sky was bright,
and the wind was fair. When they reached the Baltic Sea a storm came on,
the wind raged furiously, all hands were employed to save the vessel.
But the storm increased, and the captain thought all would be lost.
While things were in this state the little sailor boy was missing. One
of the crew told the captain he was down in the cabin. When sent for he
came up with his Testament in his hand and asked the captain if he might
read. His request was granted. He then knelt down and read the sixtieth
and sixty-first Psalms. While he was reading the wind began to abate,
(the storms in the Baltic abate as suddenly as they come on.) The
captain was much moved, and said he believed the boy's reading was heard
in Heaven.



At St. Petersburg, the birth day of any of the royal family is observed
as a time of great festivity, by all kinds of diversions. When the
vessel in which John Read shipped arrived, he was allowed to go on shore
to see the sport on that occasion. In one of the sleighs was a lady, who
at the moment of passing him lost a bracelet from her arm, which fell on
the snow. John hastened forward to pick it up, at the same time calling
after the lady, who was beyond the sound of his voice. He then put the
bracelet into his pocket, and when he had seen enough of the sport, went
back to the ship.

John told the captain all about it, showing him the prize which he had

"Well, Jack," said the captain, "you are fortunate enough--these are
all diamonds of great value--when we get to the next port I will sell it
for you." "But," said John, "It's not mine, it belongs to the lady, and
I cannot sell it." The captain replied "O, you cannot find the lady, and
you picked it up. It is your own." But John persisted it was not his.
"Nonsense, my boy," said the captain, "it belongs to you." John then
replied--"But if we have another storm in the Baltic," (see story
preceding.) "Ah me," said the Captain, "I forgot all about that, Jack. I
will go on shore with you to-morrow and try to find the owner." They did
so; and after much trouble, found it belonged to a nobleman's, lady, and
as a reward for the boy's honesty, she gave him eighty pounds English
money. John's next difficulty was what to do with it. The captain
advised him to lay it out in hides, which would be valuable in England.
He did so, and on arriving at Hull, they brought one hundred and fifty

John had not forgotten his mother. The captain gave him leave of absence
for a time, and taking a portion of his money with him, he started for
his native village. When he arrived there, he made his way to her house
with a beating heart. Each object told him it was home, and brought
bygone days to his mind. On coming to the house he saw it was closed. He
thought she might be dead; and as he slowly opened the gate and walked
up the path and looked about, his heart was ready to break. A neighbor
seeing him, said, "Ah, John, is that you?" and quickly told him that his
mother still lived--but as she had no means of support, she had gone to
the poor house. John went to the place, found his mother, and soon made
her comfortable in her own cottage. The sailor boy afterwards became
mate of the same vessel in which he first left the quay at Yarmouth.


"Little boy, will you help a poor old man up the hill with this load?"
said an old man, who was drawing a hand cart with a bag of corn for the

"I can't," said the boy, "I am in a hurry to be at school."

As the old man sat on the stone, resting himself, he thought of his
youthful days, and of his friends now in the grave; the tears began to
fall, when John Wilson came along, and said,--"Shall I help you up the
hill with your load, sir?" The old man brushed his eyes with his coat
sleeve, and replied, "I should be glad to have you." He arose and took
the tongue of his cart, while John pushed behind. When they ascended the
top of the hill, the old man thanked the lad for his kindness. In
consequence of this John was ten minutes too late at school. It was
unusual for him to be late, as he was known to be punctual and prompt;
but as he said nothing to the teacher about the cause of his being late,
he was marked for not being in season.

After school, Hanson, the first boy, said to John, "I suppose you
stopped to help old Stevenson up the hill with his corn."

"Yes," replied John, "the old man was tired and I thought I would give
him a lift."

"Well, did you get your pay for it?" said Hanson, "for I don't work for

"Nor do I," said John; "I didn't help him, expecting pay."

"Well, why did you do it? You knew you would be late to school."

"Because I thought I _ought_ to help the poor old man," said John.

"Well," replied Hanson, "if you will work for nothing, you may. _No pay,
no work_, is my motto."

"To _be kind and obliging_, is mine," said John.

Here, children, is a good example. John did not perform this act of
kindness for nothing. He had the approbation of a good conscience--the
pleasure of doing good to the old man--and the respect and gratitude of
his friends. Even the small act of benevolence is like giving a cup of
cold water to the needy, which will not pass unnoticed. Does any body
work for nothing when he does good? Think of this, and do likewise.


"Mary," said George, "next summer I will not have a garden. Our pretty
tree is dying, and I won't love another tree as long as I live. I will
have a bird next summer, and that will stay all winter."

"George, don't you remember my beautiful canary bird? It died in the
middle of the summer, and we planted bright flowers in the ground where
we buried it. My bird did not live as long as the tree."

"Well, I don't see as we can love anything. Dear little brother died
before the bird, and I loved him better than any bird, or tree or
flower. Oh! I wish we could have something to love that wouldn't die."

The day passed. During the school hours, George and Mary had almost
forgotten that their tree was dying; but at evening, as they drew their
chairs to the table where their mother was sitting, and began to arrange
the seeds they had been gathering, the remembrance of the tree came upon

"Mother," said Mary, "you may give these seeds to cousin John; I never
want another garden."

"Yes," added George, pushing the papers in which he had carefully folded
them towards his mother, "you may give them all away. If I could find
some seeds of a tree that would never fade, I should like then to have a
garden. I wonder, mother, if there ever was such a garden?"

"Yes, George, I have read of a garden where the trees never die."

"A _real_ garden, mother?"

"Yes, my son. In the middle of the garden, I have been told, there runs
a pure river of water, clear as crystal, and on each side of the river
is the _tree of life_,--a tree that never fades. That garden is
_heaven_. There you may love and love for ever. There will be no
death--no fading there. Let your treasure be in the tree of life, and
you will have something to which your young hearts can cling, without
fear, and without disappointment. Love the Saviour here, and he will
prepare you to dwell in those green pastures, and beside those still

* * * * *

Every neglected opportunity draws after it an irreparable loss, which
will go into eternity with you.--_Doddridge_.



You gave read of that remarkable man, Mr. Usher, who was Archbishop of
Armagh. I will tell you something about his early childhood. He was born
in Dublin, in the year 1580, and when a little boy he was fond of
reading. He lived with his two aunts who were born blind, and who
acquired much knowledge of the Scriptures by hearing others read the
Scriptures and other good books. At seven years of age he was sent to
school in Dublin; at the end of five years he was superior in study to
any of his school fellows, and was thought fully qualified to enter the
college at Dublin.

While he was at college he learned to play at cards, and he was so much
taken up with this amusement that both his learning and piety were much
endangered. He saw the evil tendency of playing at cards, and at once
relinquished the practice entirely. When he was nine years old, he heard
a sermon preached which made a deep impression on his mind. From that
time he was accustomed to habits of devotion. He loved to pray, and he
felt that he could not sleep quietly without first commending himself to
the care of his Heavenly Father for protection. You see him in the
picture kneeling by his bed side, alone with God. When he was fourteen
years old, he began to think about partaking of the Lord's supper. He
thought this act to be a very solemn and important one, and required a
thorough preparation. On the afternoon previous to the communion, he
would retire to some private place for self examination and prayer. When
he was but sixteen years of age, he obtained such a knowledge of
chronology as to have commenced the annals of the Old and New
Testaments, which were published many years after, and are now a general
standard of reference.

When his father died, he being the eldest son, the paternal estate was
left to him to manage. But as he feared that it would occupy too much of
his time and attention, he gave it entirely to his brother and sisters,
reserving only enough for his books and college expenses. At the age of
twenty he entered the ministry, and seven years after was chosen a
professor in the University of Dublin. In 1640, he visited England at
the time of the commencement of the rebellion; all his goods were seized
by the popish party, except some furniture in his house, and his library
at Drogheda, which was afterwards sent to London. He bore his loss with
submission, but he never returned to Ireland. He had many trials to
endure on account of the troublous times in England, (it being the time
of the civil wars.) In 1646 he received a kind invitation from the
Countess of Peterborough to reside in one of her houses, which proposal
he accepted and lived in one of them till his death, in 1665. By the
direction of Cromwell he was buried in Westminster Abby.


A man was going from Norwich to New London with a loaded team; on
attempting to ascend a hill where an Indian lived he found his team
could not draw the load. He went for the Indian to assist him. After he
had got up the hill he asked the Indian what was to pay. The Indian told
him to do as much for somebody else.

Some time afterward the Indian wanted a canoe. He went up Shetucket
river, found a tree, and made him one. When he had finished it he could
not get it to the river; accordingly he went to a man and offered to pay
him if he would go and draw it to the river for him. The man set about
it immediately, and after getting it to the river, the Indian offered to
pay him. "No," said the man; "don't you recollect, so long ago, helping
a man with a team up the hill by the side of your house?" "Yes." "Well,
I am the man; take your canoe and go home."


The sparrows often build their nests under the eaves of houses and
barns. A young lad saw one of the sparrows conveying materials for her
nest, which she was building under the eaves of a cottage adjoining his
father's house. He was told not to disturb it. But birds' eggs form a
temptation to many boys. At a favorable opportunity the lad climbed up
to the roof of the cottage and carried away the nest with the eggs in
it. Among the materials of which the nest was composed was a piece of
paper with some printed verses on it. The boy pulled it out and found it
to be a page of one of Dr. Watts' hymns, which had been picked up in the
yard by the poor bird for strengthening her nest. The boy unfolded the
paper and read:--

"Why should I deprive my neighbor
Of his goods against his will?
Hands were made for honest labor.
Not to plunder nor to steal."

The lad says, in his after years, "I never forgot the lesson presented
to me by that leaf of paper which had been fixed to the nest of the
poor sparrow." Let young people remember that when they do wrong they
will get reproved, and it may be by the means of a bird.


Little Charles knew nothing about an echo. As he was playing by himself
in the field, he cried out, "Ho, hop!" and immediately a voice from the
woods near by answered, "ho, hop!" Being surprised at this, he called
out, "who be you?" The voice answered, "who be you?" Charles thought
this very strange, and cried out "you're a stupid fellow," and "stupid
fellow," was the reply from the woods.

Charles began to be much displeased, and called several abusive names,
and every name he called, came back to him. "I never met with such
insolence," said he, "but I'll revenge myself;" and he ran up and down
among the trees, trying to find the supposed offender, but he could see
no one. Vexed and disappointed, he hastened home and told his mother
that a bad boy had hidden in the woods and called him all sorts of

His mother smiled and shook her head. "Now you have been angry at
yourself, Charles, for you must know that you heard nothing but your own
words repeated. As you have seen your own face reflected in the water,
so you have now heard your own voice echoed." Had Charles spoke kind
words he would have heard kind words in return. It is often true that
the behavior we meet with from others, is but an echo of our own. If we
speak kind words we shall have kind words in return.



I wish to relate to you a very affecting story about a good girl who
died when she was thirteen years old. She was an interesting young girl,
and possessed great intellectual powers. She was also very fond of the
works of nature, especially of flowers, and would often say, "How good
God is to make these beautiful flowers for us to enjoy." Soon it was
very evident to her friends that disease was preying on her delicate
constitution. She bore all her sickness with calm submission, and when
she died she appeared to all who knew her to be prepared for heaven.
While she was sick, her parents did every thing to make her comfortable
and happy. They had a dog which Lizzy set a great deal by, and with him
she used to play in the house and in the garden. When Lizzy was so sick
that she could not play with him, he would come and lay himself down at
her bed side, and appeared to be very sad on her account. When she died
and was buried, the dog followed with the parents in the funeral, to the
grave yard where Lizzy was laid away. One day, about five months
afterwards, I went with her father to see the grave of Lizzy. As we went
into the grave yard, we walked slowly along, reading the names of
persons buried there, while the dog followed us. We soon missed the dog,
supposing he had wandered into some other part of the cemetery. But when
we came within a few yards of Lizzy's grave we saw him sitting at its
head, leaning against the stone which was erected in memory of the
lovely daughter. It was a very affecting scene--the attachment of the
dog, as well as the power of his memory. Dogs are faithful creatures,
and we can never bear to see them abused. Be kind to them and they will
be kind to you.


It was a beautiful June day, just at the sun's setting, when Julia
Easworth went to visit the resting place of a dear grandmother. While
she was in the grave-yard, meditating on the loss of one of her best
earthly friends, she saw a lady dressed in mourning busily engaged in
doing something near a rose bush that grew at the foot of a little
mound, at a short distance from where she stood. Julia walked along and
came near where she was, and laid her hand gently upon the woman and
said, "Madam, is this your little mound?"

"Oh, no, my child; it is my dear Elise's grave."

"And is it long since you laid her here, ma'am," said Julia.

"Only a few weeks," was the reply; "there were buds on this rose bush
when I brought it here."

"And was it her's," asked Julia, as she stooped down to inhale the rich
fragrance of the beautiful flower.

"Yes, my child, it was a dear treasure to her. My Elise was a good
child, she was my Idol, but my Heavenly Father has seen best to remove
her from me. I only cared to live that I might be useful to her in
giving her such instructions as might be a blessing to her. I almost
adored her, but she is gone from me, and I am alone. I know she is
happy, because she was good."

"And have you always lived here in our town," asked Julia.

"Oh, no! I am from Italy. When my child was but two years old, I left my
native shores, and with my only relative, my father, followed my young
husband, who is an American, to his own land. We settled in the State of
Virginia, and a short time ago he died and left me with a charge to take
care of our dear Elise. She had her father's hair and complexion, and
inherited his delicate constitution. We were poor and I labored hard,
but I cared not, if I could only make my child comfortable and happy.
She was not like me--her mind was full of thoughts of beauty--she would
often talk of things with which I could not sympathize--the world seemed
to her to be full of voices, and she would often say 'How beautiful
_heaven_ must be.' Her nature was purer and gentler than mine, and I
felt that she was a fit companion of the angels. But she is now gone to
be with them, and I hope soon to meet her."

Julia bid the lady good bye and went towards her home. As she walked
slowly along, she thought to herself, "Elise with the angels!" and she
dwelt on the theme till her mother, seeing her rather different in her
conduct, asked her the cause, when she replied, "Oh, mother! I want to
dwell with the angels."


"And was there never a portrait of your beautiful child," said Anne
Jones to a lady whom she met at the grave where her child had been lain
a few weeks.

"Oh, yes! but I may never have it," replied the woman, as she stood
weeping at the grave.

Anna did not understand the mother's tears, but in a few moments she
became calm, and continued to explain.

"Not many weeks before my child's illness, as we were walking together
in the city, an artist observed my daughter and followed us to our
humble home. He praised her countenance to me, and said her beauty was
rare. In all his life he had never seen face to compare with it, nor an
eye so full of soul--and begged to have me consent to his drawing her
portrait. After many urgent entreaties, my dear child consented. For
several mornings I went with Flora to the artist's room, though I could
ill afford the time, for our daily bread was to be earned. When he was
finishing the picture, Flora went alone. One day she returned, and
flinging into my lap her little green purse, she said:--'The picture
does not need me any more, and I am very glad, for my head aches badly.
They say the portrait is very like me, mother.'

"I resolved to go and see it the day following, but when the time came
that I first looked upon it, my dear child began to fade in my arms,
until she died. And here she is buried. Since then I go to the artist's
room to see her portrait, and there, full of life and beauty, she stands
before me, and I have permission to see it every day.

"But I am about to leave this country for our native land. My aged
father has long wished to return to his own country, and we shall soon
sail with our friends for Italy. I must leave the dear child here. But
if I can purchase the picture of the artist, I shall be happy. We are
poor; but by the sale of some little articles, we have raised money
enough to buy the picture, at the price which the artist demands for a
similar picture.

"When I went to buy it, you know not how I felt, when the artist,
notwithstanding all my pleadings, denied my request. His apology was,
that he had taken it for some purpose of his own--some great exhibition
of paintings--what, I could not fully comprehend. He would not sell it.
Day after day I have been to him, but in vain. And now the time of our
departure will soon come, and duty demands that I must go with my
father, and I must leave my dear Flora, and portrait too."

She then laid her face upon the grave and wept. Anna's eyes were filled
with tears, and for some moments she did not speak. At last she
thought--"I know the artist." And then touching the mother, who was
almost insensible, she said, "Madam, it may be that I can do something
for you--describe to me the picture. I think I must have seen it at this
same artist's room."

The mother then gave the description, and after Anna had gathered from
the mother all needful information, her name, and residence, and time
of sailing, then giving her own address, and speaking to her words of
consolation and hope, she arose and left the stranger at the grave of
her child. The next story will tell you how the picture was obtained.


Anna started for her home, and when she had arrived, she slowly ascended
to her room, flung herself upon her couch, and buried her face in its

"Edgar," (for that was the artist's name, and Anna knew him,) "Edgar is
cold hearted." She did not meet the family at tea that evening, but when
her mother came to inquire if she was ill, she related all the sad story
of the childless mother, and asked what could be done. The next
morning, Anna and her father went to see the artist. He was not in
attendance, but one to whom they were well known brought forward the
picture, at Anna's request, and which she had before seen. While they
were looking at it, the artist came in.

"Pardon me, sir," said Anna's father, "for examining your beautiful
picture during your absence, but my daughter has a very earnest desire
to possess it. Is it for sale?"

Edgar replied, "I have painted this picture for the coming artist's
exhibition, and, therefore, I have made no design as to its disposal,
but it would be an honor to me to have you and Miss Anna its purchasers.
I would wish, however, previously to its being given up, that it might
be exhibited, according to my intention, at the rooms, which open on
Monday next."

Mr. H. hesitated--the vessel, which was to carry away the sorrowing
mother, was to sail in a little more than two weeks--they must have the
picture at that time, if ever; and he said to the artist, "I am aware
that this is a beautiful painting, and I will pay you your price, but I
must be allowed to take it at the expiration of ten days, if at all."

Edgar reflected a few moments, and being well aware that, in the mansion
of Mr. Hastings, his elegant picture would be seen by persons of the
most accomplished manners, and of excellent taste, concluded to sell the
picture. The bargain was made and Anna and her father departed, leaving
the artist somewhat elated at the thought of having Mr. H. the owner of
his picture.

That night Edgar dreamed that Flora, who had been buried a few weeks,
and of whose image his picture was the exact resemblance, stood before
him, pleading him to have pity on her lonely mother--he dreamed her hand
clasped his, and he awoke trembling.

He raised himself upon his elbow, and pressed to his lips some flowers
which were left on his table, and then rejoiced that the ocean would
soon lie between him and the wearisome old woman who had so long annoyed
him about the picture.

The Monday morning came, and with it the portrait of Flora, which had
been admired at the exhibition rooms the previous week. A simple frame
had been prepared for it, and for a few moments Anna gazed on the
picture, and with a love for the buried stranger, looked for the last
time into the deep dark eyes which beamed on the canvas.

The ship Viola, bound for the port of Naples, lay at the wharf, the
passengers were all hurrying on board, the flags were flying, and all
wore the joyous aspect of a vessel outward bound. A carriage drawn by a
pair of horses came down to the vessel. Mr. Hastings and Anna alighted,
and were followed by a servant, who took the safely cased portrait in
his arms, and accompanied them on board the ship. They soon met the
mother of Flora, and Anna took the picture and presented it to her, and
promised to care for the rose buds which bloomed at Flora's grave. Mr. H
received from the gallant captain a promise to take special charge of
the Italian widow, and her aged father, and to care for the valued
picture of Flora. Thanks and farewells closed the scene, when Anna, with
her father, returned home. There she found a note from Edgar, the
artist, requesting permission to call on Anna that evening. She wrote a
reply, saying that a previous engagement would forbid her complying with
his request, at the same time enclosing a check for $200, saying, "My
father requests me to forward this check to you, in payment for the
portrait of _Flora Revere_"


We've no abiding city here:
This may distress the worldling's mind,
But should not cost the saint a tear,
Who hopes a better rest to find.

We've no abiding city here;
We seek a city out of sight,
Zion its name: the Lord is there:
It shines with everlasting light.

Hush, my soul, nor dare repine;
The time my God appoints is best;
While here to do his will be mine,
And his to fix my time of rest.



Mrs. Savage was the eldest sister of Matthew Henry. When she was a child
she had a great many advantages for the improvement of her mind. When
only seven years of age, she could translate the Hebrew language, and
when ten years old, she would write out her father's sermons. She
possessed a very amiable disposition, and was very kind and benevolent
to all who needed the comforts of life. She was a Christian, and when
she became a mother she began the work of educating her children
herself. She had a large family of nine children, and as she had
treasured up in her memory many hymns and verses which she had learned
when a child, she was able to teach the same to her children. She was so
kind and affectionate that every body loved her. Her children took much
pleasure in hearing their mother repeat to them the hymns and texts of
Scripture which she had learned.

Some children are very careless, and indifferent to their parents'
advice; such ones will regret it in their riper years. But Mrs. Savage's
little boys and girls loved their mother, and were very obedient to her
commands. When evening came, before they retired to bed she would call
her little children around her (as you see in the picture,) and they
would kneel down and say their evening prayer. A pleasant sight, indeed,
to see our dear children remembering their Creator in the days of their
youth. Mrs. S. was "useful, beloved, meek, humble, and charitable." She
lived a happy, cheerful life; she was an ornament to her Christian
profession, a "good mother." She died suddenly at the good old age of


"Will you please teach me my verse, mamma, and then kiss me and bid me
good night," said little Roger, as he opened the door and peeped into
the chamber of his sick mother. "I am very sleepy, but no one has heard
me say my prayers." Mrs. L. was very ill, and her friends believed her
to be dying. She sat propped up with pillows and struggling for breath,
her eyes were growing dim, and her strength was failing very fast. She
was a widow, and little Roger was her only darling child. He had been in
the habit of coming into her room every night, and sitting in her lap,
or kneeling by her side, while she repeated some Scripture passages to
him or related a story of wise and good people. She always loved to
hear Roger's verse and prayer.

"Hush! hush!" said the lady who was watching beside the couch. "Your
dear mamma is too ill to hear you to night." And as she said this, she
came forward and laid her hand gently upon his arm as if she would lead
him from the room. "I cannot go to bed to night," said the little boy,
"without saying my prayers--I cannot."

Roger's dying mother heard his voice, and his sobs, and although she had
been nearly insensible to everything around her, yet she requested the
attendant lady to bring the boy and lay him near her side. Her request
was granted, and the child's rosy cheek nestled in the bosom of his
dying mother.

"Now you may repeat this verse after me," said his mother, "and never
forget it: 'When my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will take me
up.'" The child repeated it three times--then he kissed the pale cheek
of his mother, and went quietly to his little couch.

The next morning he sought as usual for his mother, but she was now cold
and motionless. She died soon after little Roger retired to his bed.
That was her last lesson to her darling boy--he did not forget it. He
has grown to be a man and occupies a high post of honor in
Massachusetts. I never can look upon him without thinking about the
faith so beautifully exhibited by his dying mother. It was a good


A teacher once asked a child, "If you had a golden crown, what would you
do with it?" The child replied, "I would give it to my father to keep
till I was a man." He asked another. "I would buy a coach and horses
with it," was the reply. He asked a third. "Oh," said the little girl to
whom he spoke, "I would do with it the same as the people in heaven do
with their crowns. I would cast it at the Saviour's feet."


One Sabbath evening a teacher was walking up and down in the porch
before his house, in one of the South Sea Islands. The sun was setting
behind the waves of the ocean, and the labors of the day were over. In
that cool, quiet hour, the teacher was in prayer, asking a blessing on
his people, his scholars, and himself. As he heard the leaves of the
Mimosa tree rustling, he thought the breeze was springing up--and
continued his walk. Again he heard the leaves rattle, and he felt sure
that it could not be the wind. So he pushed aside the long leafy
branches of the trees, and passed beneath. And what did he find there?
Three little boys. Two were fast asleep in each other's arms, but the
third was awake.

"What are you doing there, my children?" asked the teacher. "We have
come to sleep here," said the boy. "And why do you sleep here; have you
no home?" "Oh, yes," said the lad, "but if we sleep here, we are sure to
be ready when the school bell rings in the morning." "And do your
parents know about it?" "Mine do," said the lad, "but these little boys
have no parents; they are orphans."

You know the nights in the South Sea Islands are not cold and damp like
ours, but as the teacher thought a heavy rain would fall in the night,
he roused the orphans, and led the three little boys into the large
porch of the house, where they might rest in safety. He was happy to
find that they were some of his scholars, and that they loved their
school. What would these little Islanders think if they could look from
their distant homes into some of our schools and see how many late
comers there are!


Two boys were one day on their way from school, and as they were passing
a cornfield, in which there were some plum trees, full of nice ripe
fruit, Henry said to Thomas, "Let us jump over and get some plums.
Nobody will see us, and we can scud along through the corn and come out
on the other side."

Thomas said, "I cannot. It is wrong to do so. I would rather not have
the plums, than to steal them, and I think I will run along home."

"You are a coward," said Henry, "I always knew you were a coward, and if
you don't want any plums you may go without them, but I shall have some
very quick."

Just as Henry was climbing the fence, the owner of the field rose up
from the other side of the wall, and Henry jumped back, and ran away.
Thomas had no reason to be afraid, so he stood still, and the owner of
the field, who had heard the conversation between the boys, told him
that he was very glad to see that he was not willing to be a thief. He
then told Thomas that he might step over the fence and help himself to
as many plums as he wished. The boy was pleased with the invitation, and
soon filled his pockets with plums which he could call his own. Honesty
will always get its reward.



George had a large and noble dog.
With hair as soft as silk;
A few black spots upon his back,
The rest as white as milk.

And many a happy hour they had,
In dull or shining weather;
For, in the house, or in the fields,
They always were together.

The faithful creature knew full well
When Master wished to ride;
And he would kneel down on the grass,
While Georgy climbed his side

They both were playing in the field.
When all at once they saw
A little squirrel on a stump,
With an acorn in his paw

The dog still looked with eager eye,
And George could plainly see,
It was as much as he could do
To let the squirrel be.

The timid creature would have feared
The dog so bold and strong,
But he seemed to know the little boy
Would let him do no wrong.

He felt a spirit of pure love
Around the gentle boy,
As if good angels, hovering there,
Watched over him in joy.

And true it is that angels oft
Good little George have led;
They're with him in his happy play.
They guard his little bed;

They keep his heart so kind and true,
They make his eye so mild,
For dearly do the angels love,
A gentle little child.


I will tell you an affecting story about a young lad by the name of
Emerson Terry, who lived in Hartford, Ct. He was very kind to the poor,
and could never see the suffering of his fellow beings without making an
effort for their relief. Here is one instance of his kindness and

While he resided in Bristol, his father, Dr. Terry, took little Emerson
with him to ride into Hartford that he might see the city. Emerson had
one dollar, and it was the first dollar he ever earned. He took the
dollar with him, thinking to buy something with it in the city. While
they were riding along on the way, they overtook a poor fugitive slave
seeking his freedom in the North. Mr. Terry kindly took the wayfaring
man into his carriage when the poor man related to him his sufferings
and poverty, and also his trust in God. Young Emerson's heart was
touched, when, of his own accord, he drew out his _first_ and _only_
dollar and gave it to the poor fugitive. When he returned home he told
his mother what he had done, with a satisfaction that indicated his
pleasure in being able to relieve a suffering stranger. How noble was
this act. He felt willing to forego the pleasure of spending his dollar
for himself, for any pleasing toys, that he might help a poor wanderer
on the earth. When he was fifteen years of age, he was drowned in the
Connecticut River. He was beloved and respected by a large circle of
acquaintance. He was noted for his kind disposition, tender feelings,
and lovely spirit. He sleeps in peace, and we all hope to meet him in


A poor shepherd, living among the Alps, the father of a large family,
for whose wants he provided with great difficulty, purchased an old
Bible from a dealer in old cloths and furniture. On Sunday evening, as
he was turning over the leaves, he noticed several of them were pasted
together. He immediately began to separate the pasted leaves with great
care. Inside of these leaves he found carefully enclosed a bank bill of
five hundred dollars. On the margin of one of the pages was written
these words: "I gathered together money with very great difficulty, but
having no natural heirs but those who have absolutely need of nothing, I
make thee, whosoever shall read this Bible, my natural heir."

We cannot promise our young friends that they will find money in the
leaves of their Bibles, but you may be assured that if you study its
pages, and follow its precepts, you will find wisdom, which is better
than silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold.


Ye favored lands, rejoice,
Where God reveals his word:
We are not left to nature's voice
To bid us know the Lord.

His statutes and commands
Are set before our eyes;
He puts the gospel in our hands,
Where our salvation lies.

His laws are just and pure,
His truth without deceit;
His promise is for ever sure,
And his rewards are great.



There are many plays in which children may amuse themselves so as to
benefit both the mind and body. Exercise is very essential to the
health, and all children should accustom themselves to such exercise as
will give elasticity to all the muscles of the body. Some children often
play too hard, and others, before they get through playing, get to
quarrelling. Children never appear so badly as when they quarrel with
each other. Joseph and William, Jane and little Susan, are out in the
garden playing "hide and seek," around the summer house, as you see in
the picture. William became a little contrary, because every thing in
the play did not suit him, and declared he would run away. And you see
how cross he looks at Jane, as he turns round to run away. Children
should never let anger rise in their bosoms because of some small
mistake on the part of others. They should always overlook all mistakes,
forgive all injuries, and learn to love each other when at play, as well
as when at school. Good children will play together, without getting
angry, and it is a pretty sight to see such children all happy in each
other's society, and enjoying their pleasant pastimes, with cheerful and
happy hearts.

Our evil actions spring like trees,
From small and hidden seeds;
We think, or wish some wicked thing,
And then do wicked deeds.

Whoever dares to tell a lie,
Whoever steals a pin,
Whoever strikes an angry blow,
Has done a deed of sin.


Little George Ames went with his Aunt to attend a missionary meeting.
After the minister had ended his sermon, as he sat in the pew he
whispered to his aunt, saying, "I wish you would lend me a guinea and I
will give it to you again when we get home." His aunt asked him what he
wanted of his guinea; he told her he wished to put it in the box when it
came round, to assist in sending the gospel to the heathen children. She
replied, "a guinea is a great deal of money, George; you had better ask
your mother, first." As George's mother lived very near the church, he
went home immediately, and said, "Mother, will you let me have my guinea
to give to the mission." George's mother saw that he was very much
interested for the heathen children, and says to him, "supposing you
give half of it." "No," said George, "I want to give it all."

"Well, my dear, you will remember you cannot give it and have it too."
She then gave him a one pound note, and a shilling. But George said he
would rather have a guinea. "Why," said his mother, "what difference can
it make? it is just the same amount." "Yes," said George, "but that one
pound will seem so much for a little boy to give. If I had a guinea, I
could put it in between two half-pence and nobody would know any thing
about it." His mother was pleased with his proposal, and George having
got his guinea returned to the church and put it in the box as he

Little George is now dead, and there is no danger of his being puffed up
by what he has done. You may learn from this act of George, how to do
some good to poor heathen children. You should be willing to deny
yourselves some pleasures in order that you may benefit others. And if
you do good out of a pure motive you will be blessed in the deed.


A Jew came to this country from London, many years ago, and brought with
him all his property. He had a lovely daughter of seventeen; with her he
settled in a charming retreat on the fruitful banks of the Ohio, in the
Western part of Virginia. He had buried his wife before he left Europe,
and he knew no comfort but the company of his beloved daughter. She
possessed an amiable disposition, and was well educated; she could
speak several languages, and her manners pleased all who knew her. Being
a Jew, he brought up his daughter in the strictest principles of his

It was not long after that his daughter was taken sick. The rose faded
from her cheek, her strength failed, and it was certain that she could
not live long. Her father was deeply affected. He tried to talk with
her, but could seldom speak without weeping. He spared no expense to
have her get well. One day he was walking in the wood near his house
when he was sent for by his dying daughter. With a heavy heart he
entered the door of her room, and he saw that he was now to take the
last farewell of his daughter.

"My father," said the child, "do you love me?" "Yes," he replied, "you
know that I love you." "I know, father, you have ever loved me. You have
been a kind father, and I tenderly love you. Grant me my dying

"What is it, my child? ask what you will, though it take every farthing
of my property, it shall be granted. I _will grant_ your request."

"My dear father, I now beg of you never again to speak lightly of Jesus
of Nazareth; I know that he is a Saviour, and that he has made himself
known to me, since I have been sick, even for the salvation of my soul.
I entreat you to obtain a Testament that tells of him and that you may
bestow on him the love that was formerly _mine_." She now ceased
speaking, her father left the room, when her soul took its flight to God
who gave it. After her decease the parent purchased a Testament and read
about Jesus of Nazareth, and is now a devoted Christian. Good children
may be made blessings to their parents and friends.


TRUE BENEFICENCE.--Mark Antony, when very much depressed, and at the ebb
of his fortune, cried out, "I have lost all, except what I have given

WASHINGTON AND THE SOLDIER.--A British soldier said, "It was once in my
power to shoot Gen. Washington." "Why, then," said an American, "did you
not do it?" "Because," he replied, "the death of Washington would not
have been for our benefit, for we depended upon him to treat our
prisoners kindly."

YES AND NO.--John Randolph, in one of his letters to a young relative,
says: "You must expect unreasonable requests to be preferred to you
every day of your life; and you must endeavor to say _no_ with as much
facility and kindness as you would say _yes_."

OSCEOLA.--It is said that the name of Osceola was given to that famous
chief by an old lady in a frontier village, who had newly arrived in the
country, and had never seen an Indian. When she saw him she burst forth
in utter astonishment--"Oh see! Oh la! What a curious looking man!"

SIGISMOND.--This Emperor was once reproached by some courtiers for being
favorable to his foes--to whom he replied, "Do I not effectually destroy
my enemies when I make them my friends?"


What is told in the ear is often heard a hundred miles.

Riches come better after poverty, than poverty after riches.

Who aims at excellence will be above mediocrity; who aims at mediocrity
will fall short of it.

No remedies can revive old age and faded flowers.

A truly great man never puts away the simplicity of a child.

He who toils with pain will eat with pleasure.

A wise man forgets old grudges.

* * * * *

Those that dare lose a day are dangerously prodigal; those that dare
mis-spend it, desperate.--_Bishop Hall_.

Truth enters into the heart of man when it is empty, and clean and
still: but when the mind is shaken with passion as with a storm, you can
never hear the voice of the charmer, though he charm never so wisely.



In the picture you see a true emblem of a temperate and virtuous life.
Let me here give you a few maxims to commit to memory:--

Avoid and shun the sources of misery.

Be sure not to _indulge_ your appetite.

Strong drink excites a person to do wrong.

Remember you are never out of temptation.

_A life_ of _virtue_ and _temperance_ will secure to you money and time;
will give you health, and prosperity, peace, character, respect, and


Our hands and our hearts we give
To the temperance pledge, declaring,
That long as on earth we live,
All its bountiful blessings sharing,

We will taste not and touch not the bowl
That burns with intoxication,
And will lend our assistance to roll
The temperance ball through the nation.

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