The little forget-me-not. A gift for all seasons
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I \ .4 * M Ik ©flFIF F@B ACLtL IrG [EKIEV Fa AKJKlgK© VrTZ.ro •••, .• -l-'h. < -x ' U 7*2 - Philadelphia : Printed by King & Baird. No. 9 George Street. CONTENTS The S age and Linnet, - 5 The Sky-Lark, 9 The Discontented Mole, - - - 11 The Dainty Heron, - - - - 17 The Stolen Child, 24 The Rainbow, 47 The Fairy Experiment, - - - 51 The Ocean, 64 Lucy and Ifer Dog, or the two Friends, - 68 The Origin of the Snowdrop, - - 78 The Stars, 81 Corners of Time, - - - 85 To My Dog, 90 iv CONTENTS. The Complaints of the Poor, 94 The Rival Graces, 98 Recreation and Dissipation, - - 106 A Cure for Disobedience,  1942 5 THE SAGE AND LINNET. A wise old man, one summer’s day, Was walking in a lonely wood, And there, upon a leafless spray, A linnet sang in solitude. The old man spake, “ Come, pretty thing, Pray tell me why you nestle here ? And why so gaily do you sing, When all around is dark and drear ? 6 THE SAGE AND LINNET. “ Why spurn the meadow and the field, Where blushing flowers invite thy stay, And many a raptured bird would yield Its willing praises to thy lay ?” The linnet answered, “ Hath a sage Come here to learn of me the truth? And must I tell to hoary age A lesson fit for blooming youth ? “ Of all the gifts that heaven doth mete In mercy to its creatures dear, There’s none to me so pure, so sweet, As peace ; and, sage, I find it here ? THE SAGE AND LINNET. 7 “ ’Mid garnished fields, and meadows gay. There’s many a falcon, many a snare ; I shun them all ; and, far away, Poor, yet content, my lot 1 share. “The listening of my gentle mate Repays me for my happiest song. And oft from dawn to evening late I sing, nor find the hours too ong. “Yon rippling stream my cup supplies The wild flowers yield for me their seed ; This bowering fir, from winter skies Is all the shelter that I need. 8 THE SAGE AND LINNET. “ Then do not scorn my humble lot, Nor deem that wealth alone is bliss, For peace within the humblest cot, With calm content, is happiness.” * - 'Ov V * ' • % • • f • * • • ’ ■ • « r •* * . . •. c>:* i • • 11 THE DISCONTENTED MOLE. A FABLE. • # A young mole having crept out into the sun, one day, met with its mother, and began to complain of its lot. “ I have been thinking,” said he, “that we lead a very stupid life, burrowing under the ground, and dwelling in perpetual darkness. For my part, I think it would be much 12 the discontented mole. better to live above board, and caper about in the sun-light, like the squirrels.” “It may seem so to you,” said the wise olcl mole, “ but beware of forming hasty opinions. It is an old remark, that it takes all sorts of people to make a world. Some creatures live upon the trees, but nature has provided them with claws, which make it easy and safe for them to climb. Some dwell in the water; but they are supplied with fins, which render it easy for them to move about, and with a THE DISCONTENTED MOLE. 13 contrivance by means of which they breathe where other creatures would be drowned. Some creatures glide through the air, but they are endow- ed with wings, without which it would be vain to attempt to fly. The truth is, that every individual is made to fill some place in the scale of being, and he best seeks his own happiness in following the path which his Creator has marked out for him. We may wisely seek to better our condition by making that path as pleasant as possible, but not attempt to pursue one which we are 14 THE discontented mole. unfitted to follow. You will best consult your interest by endeavour- ing to enjoy all that properly belongs to a mole, instead of striving to swim like a fish, climb like a squirrel, or fly like a bird. Content is the great blessing of life. You may enjoy this in the quiet security of your sheltered abode ; the proudest tenant of the earth, air, or sea, can do no more.” The young mole replied ; “ This may seem very wise to you, but it sounds like nonsense to me. I am determined to burrow in the earth THE DISCONTENTED MOLE. 15 no more, but to dash out in style like other gay people.” So saying, he crept upon a little mound for the purpose of looking about and seeing what course of pleasure he should adopt. While in this situation, he was snapped up by a hawk, which carried him to a tall tree, and de- voured him without ceremony. This fable may teach us the folly of that species of discontent which would lead us to grasp at pleasures beyond our reach, or indulge envy towards those who are in the pos- session of more wealth than we. 16 THE DISCONTENTED MOLE. We should endeavour to fulfil the duties of that station in which we are placed, and not grumble that some other lot is not assigned to us. We may lawfully seek to better our condition, hut this should he done rather by excelling in that profession which we have chosen, than by en- deavouring to shine in one for which we are unfitted. 17 THE DAINTY HERON. Two little girls once went out into a field to gather flowers. Here they found buttercups, dandelions, violets, and many other pretty blos- soms. One of the children was pleased with every thing, and began to pluck such flowers as she met with. In a little while this girl had col- lected quite a bunch of flowers, and though some of them were not very 2* 18 THE DAINTY HERON. pretty, yet all together, they made a beautiful boquet. The other child was more dainty, and determined to have no flowers but such as were very beautiful. She disdained to gather the dande- lions, for they were so common ; and she would not have the butter- cups, for they were all of one colour, and did not take her fancy. Even the blue violets were not good enough for her. Thus the little pair wandered on through the field till they were about to return home. By this THE DAINTY HERON. 19 time the dainty child, seeing that her sister had a fine collection of flowers, while she had none, began to think it best to take such as she could get. But now the flowers were scarce ; not even a dandelion, a buttercup, or a violet, was to he found. At length, the little girl begged a single dandelion of her sister, and thus they returned home. When the two children went to their mother, she asked how it hap- pened that one had so pretty a bo- quet while the other had but a single flower. The children told their 20 THE DAINTY HERON. story, and their mother^ then spoke to them as follows “ My dear children, let this little event teach you a useful lesson. Jane has been the wiser of the two. 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, and has brought back a beautiful bunch of posies. But Laura, who could not stoop to pick up buttercups and dan- delions, because she wanted some- thing more beautiful than could be found, collected nothing from the THE DAINTY HERON. 21 field, and was finally obliged to beg a dandelion of her sister. “ Thus it will always happen, my children, in passing through life. If you are content with simple pleasures and innocent enjoyments, such as are scattered freely along your path, you will, day by day, gather enough to make you con- tented and happy. If, on the con- trary, you scorn simple pleasures, and innocent enjoyments, and reach after those which are more rare and difficult to be obtained, you will meet with frequent disappointment, 22 THE DAINTY HERON. and at last become dependent upon others. “To impress all this on your minds, let me tell you the fable of the dainty heron. This long-legged bird was once standing on the edge of a brook, the waters of which were so clear that he could see every thing that was swimming by. Soon a fine trout swam past, but the heron thought that he would wait for something better. Then came a perch, but this was not good enough. Then other fishes passed by, but still the dainty bird could see nothing THE DAINTY HERON. 23 that suited his palate. So he kept standing by the brook, until at length all the fishes were gone. 66 The heron now grew very hungry, and would have been glad to take any one of the fishes he had seen. Finally, as the evening was drawing nigh, he was obliged to make a poor supper upon a snail which he found in the grass.” 24 THE STOLEN CHILD. Little Edward was an only son, and as he was of a very sweet disposition, he was a universal favor- ite. His open and cheerful counte- nance, lit up as it was by a pair of the most smiling blue eyes, gained him the favour of almost every one with whom he happened to come into contact. With grandpapa he was a special pet ; and as the old gentleman was THE STOLEN CHILD. 25 very fond of music, and performed delightfully on the violin, he fre- quently amused himself by playing some lively tunes to Edward while nurse taught him to dance. It was thus that he took his first steps in this accomplishment. When he grew old enough to be able to walk about with grandpapa without any one to attend him, the two were almost inseparable companions, and daily rambled in the fields in the neighbourhood of their residence. One day grandpapa proposed that they should go to a wood some miles 26 THE STOLEN CHILD. off to gather nuts which grew there in great abundance. Edward was delighted. Mounted on a little pony (it was too far for him to walk,) he trotted gaily along by the side of grandpapa. The day was most charming. The sun shone brilliantly, and all nature seemed clothed in smiles. Edward was equally smiling and happy ; now chatting to grandpapa with even more than his usual volubility ; now stooping down and patting his pony, and lavishing on it all imaginable terms of endearment. THE STOLEN CHILD. 27 They at length arrived at the skirts of the wood, and after giving the pony in charge to the owner of a little cottage which stood on its confines, they walked on, and when they came to a fine shady spot at the foot of a rock, from which flowed a spring of the clearest wTater, they sat down and partook of the little lunch with which grand- papa had provided himself. When they had finished their frugal repast, they proceeded on to a sunny bank, on which grandpapa knew the trees always bore a plenti- 28 THE STOLEN CHILD. ful crop of the finest nuts. As they passed along, Edward was de- lighted at the sight of several squir- rels leaping about from bough to bough, tossing their long bushy tails, now and then stopping for an instant to gaze at the intruders in their solitude, and then perking their ears and darting off again so quickly that they seemed absolutely to fly. “ Can’t we catch one, grandpapa?” asked Edward. “I fear they are too nimble for us,” said grandpapa; “ but we shall see. I have heard of their being caught, especially the THE STOLEN CHILD. 29 young ones, which cannot move about so rapidly as the old ones.” They had now arrived at one of the bleakest and most lonely parts of the forest. The trees grew close together, and their thick branches almost excluded the light of day. By and by, however, the forest be- came less gloomy, and an occasional sunbeam found its way among the straggling branches. Just as Ed- ward began to breathe more freely, and feel glad that he had escaped from the lonely place, which he afterwards said seemed to him just 30 THE STOLEN CHILD. such a spot as that in which the cruel men abandoned the “Children in the Wood,” he saw running along the ground at a short distance before them, a squirrel which apparently sought to conceal itself among the loose leaves which lay scattered about. “See! grandpapa, see! can’t we catch this one,” he cried ; and in an instant both started off in pursuit of the little creature. It seemed to move with less quickness than usual, so both pursued for some distance, when it leaped across a little rill, THE STOLEN CHILD. 31 and was on the point of escaping. On each side of the rill the ground was moist and boggy, it seemed therefore as if it would be necessary to give up the chase, but Edward was so anxious to secure it that grandpapa after telling him on no account to move from the place, managed to pick his steps across and continue the pursuit. At first it appeared as if he would be successful. In attempting to leap from one branch of a tree to an- other, the squirrel fell to the ground and seemed to be stunned. But 32 THE STOLEN CHILD. before grandpapa could secure it, it recovered and again went off, slowly however, and evidently much fa- tigued. He therefore continued to follow, at every minute expecting to lay hold of the little animal, which seemed to want sufficient strength to mount among the higher branch- es, but kept moving from branch to branch almost within reach. Almost as soon as grandpapa disappeared, Edward half afraid to remain alone, and feeling very de- sirous to secure the squirrel, began to search for some place where he THE STOLEN CHILD. 33 could cross the barrier which had obstructed his progress. He searched about, and as the rill seemed to en- large and the ground to become more boggy as it proceeded, he ran as far as his little legs would carry him in an opposite direction. It was some time, however, before he found a place to cross, and when he did succeed in reaching the other side, instead of following the course of the water, he determined to take a short cut and reach the place where he thought grandpapa must be. He proceeded boldly for some 34 THE STOLEN CHILD. time, but seeing no trace of grand- papa, he turned back determined to return to the spot which he had left, and await his arrival there. He had wandered so far, how- ever, that he was quite bewildered, and instead of going to the place from which he had started, he went in quite a contrary direction, and without being aware of his mistake he proceeded some time. At length, thinking he ought by this time to have reached the rill, he stopped and looked about him. He could not see far, and the trees looked so THE STOLEN CHILD. 35 much alike that he could not tell the one from the other. Young as he was, however, Edward knew that it was of no use to stay where he was. He brushed away the tears which began to gather in his eyes, and again started off. He called aloud, but the sound of his voice died away among the trees, startling the squirrels and the wood-pigeons, but no answering call met his ear. He still proceeded onward, every minute getting deeper into the forest, and farther away from the place where he ought to have re- 36 THE STOLEN CHILD. mained. He at length came to a part of the wood which was com- paratively open, and was overjoyed to see at a little distance a light column of smoke curling up into the air. Tired though he was with his long ramble, the sight gave him fresh energy, and he ran forward expecting to find that it proceeded from the cottage where they had left their ponies in the morning ; in this, however, he was mistaken. When he came within sight he found it was caused by the fire of a gipsy encampment. THE STOLEN CHILD. 37 Edward hesitated. He felt afraid to approach, and would almost have ventured to go back into the forest rather than to approach the gipsies’ tents, wrhen, just as he was on the point of escaping, he was accosted by one of the tribe. Edward told her how he had lost himself in the forest, and how anxious he was to find grandpapa. With many kind phrases the old woman desired him to come with her and she would soon find grandpapa for him. In the mean time grandpapa, who had been led much further in his 38 THE STOLEN CHILD. pursuit of the squirrel than he in- tended, returned to the place where he left Edward, and not finding him, searched about for some time and called him by name, but re- ceiving no answer, and seeing no trace of the boy, he at first thought that he had concealed himself, and giving up the search waited patiently expecting that he would make his appearance. When some time had elapsed, and finding that he did not return, he became very anxious, and after calling aloud retraced his steps to the cottage where the ponies THE STOLEN CHILD. 39 had been left. Finding that he was not there, grandpapa once more re- turned to the forest, accompanied by several persons, to search everywhere for the lost child. Evening came, however, and all the messengers returned without being able to throw any light on the mysterious disappearance of the boy. Grandpapa remained in the forest all night, that he might be ready to resume the search in the morning. Edward’s parents, alarmed by the inquiries of a messenger who had been despatched to see if he had not 40 THE STOLEN CHILD. found his way home, also arrived to assist in the search. It was all in vain. Every corner of the forest was searched, but no traces of him could he discovered. Recent traces of the gipsies were indeed noticed, but they wTere soon lost, and sorrow- ful and almost heart-broken they all returned home. Edward and his gipsy friend pro- ceeded towards the encampment and after a few minutes consultation with her companions, one of them went off pretending to seek for grandpapa, while Edward was in- THE STOLEN CHILD. 41 troduced into one of the tents, and regaled on the remains of the dinner which the gipsies appeared to have finished but a short time before. In the mean time, he could observe that the fire whose smoke had at- tracted his notice, was hastily extin- guished, and several donkeys belong- ing to the tribe were gathered in from the forest. The messenger who had gone in search of grandpapa returned in about half an hour, say- ing that he had found him, and that he wished them to bring Edward to him. 3* 42 THE STOLEN CHILD. The tents were immediately struck, and being hastily tied toge- ther, were placed on the backs of the’ donkeys. Little Edward was placed in one of the panniers, and they moved off. For some time they skirted the wood, proceeding noiselessly and stealthily on their way, and calming Edward’s occa- sional inquiries by the assurance that they were but a very short distance from the place where they were to meet grandpapa. In a little time, however, they left the forest, and proceeded across a wild and desolate THE STOLEN CHILD. 43 part of the country. The shades of evening now approached, and anxi- ous as Edward felt, tired with his unusual exertion, he fell fast asleep. Once or twice he awoke during the night, and he found himself still seated in the pannier, and the whole body still moving forward, and on his asking for grandpapa he was told by a rough voice to be quiet. In the morning they left the track which they had been following for some time, and striking off towards a little valley which opened between two lone hills at a short distance 44 THE STOLEN CHILD. they encamped, and after partaking of a hearty meal they lay down to rest. TWards evening the gipsies again prepared to set out, and after travel- ling for two or three nights in this manner, thinking themselves out of all danger of discovery, they pro- ceeded more openly. Poor little Edward was stripped of the clothes which he wore when he left home, and dressed in a ragged suit of such apparel as the wardrobe of the gip- sies afforded. His face being un- washed soon became stained and THE STOLEN CHILD. 45 gipsy-looking, and he was sent out with some of the women on expe- ditions into the neighbouring towns — where, partly by stealing, and partly by selling small household articles which they manufactured, they contrived to gain a livelihood. Although so young, Edward felt how very wrong were many of the practices of which he saw his com- panions guilty, and steadily refused to have any thing to do with them. He was forced to accompany the gipsies in these expeditions, but he 46 THE STOLEN CHILD. would on no account assist in their dishonest practices. At length their evil deeds brought them under the power of the magis- trates, and on its being discovered that Edward had been kidnapped by the gipsies, proper inquiry was made, and he was once more restored to his heart-broken friends, who had by this time given up all hopes of his recovery, never it is hoped to be the means of inflicting so severe a punishment on them as the fruit of his disodience. ✓ 47 THE RAINBOW. BY MRS. HEMANS. I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth. Genesis ix. 13. Soft falls the mild, reviving shower From April’s changeful skies, And rain-drops bend each trembling flower They tinge with richer dyes. 48 THE RAINBOW. Soon shall their genial influence call A thousand buds to day, Which, waiting but their balmy fall, In hidden beauty lay. E’en now full many a blossom’s bell With fragrance fills the shade ; And verdure clothes each glassy dell, In brighter tints arrayed. But, mark ! what arch of varied hue From heaven to earth is bowed ? Haste, ere it vanish, haste to view The Rainbow in the cloud. THE RAINBOW. 49 How bright its glory ! there behold The emerald’s verdant rays, The topaz blends its hue of gold With the deep ruby’s blaze. Yet not alone to charm thy sight W as given the vision fair ; — Gaze on that arch of colored light, And read God’s mercy there. It tells us that the mighty deep, Fast by th’ Eternal chained, No more o’er earth’s domains shall sweep, Awful and unrestrained. 50 THE RAINBOW. It tells that seasons, heat and cold, Fixed by his sovereign will, Shall, in their course, bid man behold Seed-time and harvest still ; That still the flower shall deck the field, When vernal zephyrs blow ; That still the vine its fruit shall yield, When autumn sun-beams glow. Then, child of that fair earth ! which yet Smiles with each charm endowed, Bless thou His name, whose mercy set The Rainbow in the cloud ! 51 THE FAIRY EXPERIMENT. Once upon a time there lived in one of the sweetest and most seques- tered nooks in the country, a band of fairies. They dwelt in a charm- ing little valley, all enamelled with nameless flowers, sequestered among a range of lofty mountains, where all the beauties of nature seemed to have come together in happy har- mony. A foaming torrent, after dashing down the mountain side, 52 THE FAIRY EXPERIMENT. wandered with sweet delay all round the little vale, as if loth to lose itself again among the cliffs that environed it, and finally stole away silently through an almost invisible opening among the hills. Beyond the mountains which sur- rounded the abode of the little elfin race, there lived an old man whose sole possessions were a poor cottage miserably out of repair, and a little field which he had now become too decrepid to cultivate. Poor as he was, however, the old man was kind hearted and hospitable. While he THE FAIRY EXPERIMENT. 53 had he gave away, nor did the beg- gar ever want food ; or the traveller lodging so long as the old man had a house over his head, or a handful of meal in his barrel. One day it happened that an ar- gument arose among the fairies about the effects of prosperity and adversity on the character of man- kind. Much was said on both sides, and the debate was beginning to assume an angry aspect, when a sage old fairy proposed to bring the question to the test of experiment. “ Let us try the effect of both upon 54 THE FAIRY EXPERIMENT. the old man on the other side of the mountain. He is now poor and charitable : let us see what effect competence first, and then wealth, will have upon his heart.” This was at once agreed to. It happened that the season had been unfavourable, and the old man’s crop of corn, always but scanty, was now diminished to just enough of flour to make one loaf. When that was gone he did not know where to get more, for all the country round was almost as badly of!' as himself. As he sat at his door in the twi- THE FAIRY EXPERIMENT. 55 light, smoking his pipe, and thinking what would become of him when his last loaf was eaten, on a sudden there appeared before him a misera- ble old woman, the very picture of starvation. Her eyes were hollow, and her cheeks sunken ; her dress was in tatters, and she seemed to drag her shoeless feet with difficulty over the ground, supporting herself on a staff which bent beneath her weight. The old man’s heart yearned with compassion. He arose and offered 56 THE FAIRY EXPERIMENT. her his seat, on which she sunk exhausted, and begged him to give her something to eat, for she was famishing. “ Alas !” said the old man, 66 if I give to you I must starve myself. I have but one mess of flour left, and when that is gone I know not where to get another.” “ Then God help me ! I must perish,” said the old woman ; “ I have not tasted food for two days !” 66 That must not be,” said the old man, “ I will share my last meal with you, and trust to Providence THE FAIRY EXPERIMENT. 57 for the future.” So he emptied his flour into a dish, and baked a little loaf, and they partook of it together. When they had finished their humble meal, the old woman rose, and, after thanking him earnestly, she told him to put his empty barrel out by the side of the spring at night. The old man asked her why he should do so, but she refused to answer his question, and again thank- ing him she went on her way. Though he thought it a foolish piece of nonsense, the old man did put his empty barrel out by the side 4 58 THE FAIRY EXPERIMENT. of the spring, and in the morning, lo ! he found it filled to the brim with corn ! The next night he again placed it as before, and it was again filled. The old man felt thankful and happy. By and by, however, it came into his head that he might as well try if the same thing would not happen if he put two barrels out instead of one, and finding that both were filled, he began to think what he would do with the superfluity, as he had now more than he wanted. At first he thought of giving it away to his poor THE FAIRY EXPERIMENT. . 59 neighbours, who were still suffering from the scanty harvest, but a feel- ing of avarice came over him, and he resolved to sell it at a high price. He counted the money which he received for the corn over daily, turning it over and over, and every day he seemed to love it better than before. Thinking it did not increase fast enough, he resolved to put three barrels by the spring, and finding that they were filled, he increased the number till they amounted to a dozen. As he continued to sell the corn at a very high price, he was 60 THE FAIRY EXPERIMENT. soon one of the richest men in all the country round. He built a fine house, dressed in rich garments, and thought of nothing night or day but getting money. He was no longer charitable and kind-hearted ; and, when the poor came to beg a little supply of corn, he drove them con- temptuously from his door. Meanwhile he continued to in- crease the number of the barrels ; but, instead of the quantity of corn increasing, it daily diminished. Every night the barrels were less and less full, till at last, from being THE FAIRY EXPERIMENT. 61 only half full, he could in the morn- ing now see the bottom of each. He resolved to watch and try to learn whence the corn came, and why the supply began to fail. He got into a tree which overhung the spring, and, after waiting some time, he saw a train of little tiny elves streaming down from the mountain, and each bearing a couple of grains of corn which they deposited in the barrel and flew off again with the swiftness of thought. Quick as they were, however, they were not quick enough for the avaricious old man, 62 THE FAIRY EXPERIMENT. and, thinking to urge them on, he called out to them to make haste. In an instant off darted the fairies with a loud shriek, and disappeared behind the mountain like a flock of birds. In the morning he found his barrels quite empty, and they were never filled again. On going to count his money, it too was gone ; and soon his fine house and costly furniture followed, and the poor old man was left more miserable than before. When the fairies again met to THE FAIRY EXPERIMENT. 63 consider the result of their experi- ment, they determined to reward virtue not by bestowing wealth or power, but by endowing it with a blameless conscience, a benevolent heart, and a contented mind. 64 THE OCEAN. BY MRS. HEMANS. They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters, these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. Psalm cvii. 23, 24. He that in venturous barks hath been A wanderer on the deep, Can tell of many an awful scene, Where storms for ever sweep. « • % THE OCEAN. 65 For many a fair, majestic sight Hath met his wandering eye, Beneath the streaming northern light, Or blaze of Indian sky. Go ! ask him of the whirlpool’s roar. Whose echoing thunder peals Loud, as if rushed along the shore An army’s chariot wheels ; Of icebergs, floating o’er the main, Or fixed upon the coast, Like glittering citadel or fane, ’Mid the bright realms of frost ; 4* 66 THE OCEAN. Of coral rocks, from waves below In steep ascent that tower, And fraught with peril, daily grow, Formed by an insect’s power ; Of sea-fires, which at dead of night Shine o’er the tides afar, And make th’ expanse of ocean bright As heaven with many a star. O God ! thy name they well may praise, Who to the deep go down, And trace the wonders of thy ways, Where rocks and billows frown. THE OCEAN. G7 If glorious be that awful deep, No human power can bind, What then art Thou, who bidst it keep Within its bounds confined ! Let heaven and earth in praise unite, Eternal praise to Thee, Whose word can rouse the tempest’s might, Or still the raging sea ! 68 LUCY AND HER DOG, OR THE TWO FRIENDS. “ Come to me, Tray ! come, and I will give you a piece of this nice cake,” cried Lucy to her dog one day as she sat under the shade of a large tree wThich grew in her papa’s garden. Tray was a good dog ; he came at once, and, seating himself by her side, looked first at the cake, and then turned his large and intel- ligent eyes on Lucy’s face, as much LUCY AND HER DOG. 69 as to say, “ here I am, give me the cake which you promised me !” Lucy loved her dog. She took him round the neck, spoke kind- ly to him, and gave him part of her cake. She knew that in Tray she had a kind, intelligent, and faithful friend. They were playmates, and when Lucy had said her lessons she often chased Tray up and down the garden, and across the lawn, till he was quite tired, and Tray was always so good tem- pered and so ready for a frolic. It 70 LUCY AND HER DOG. was quite a treat to see them run- ning about so happily. One day Lucy was at play at the foot of the garden, where there was a deep pond, and as she was run- ning away from Tray, and thought- lessly looking behind to see if he was following, she came close up to the side of the pond before she was aware, and before she could stop herself she fell into the water. Poor Lucy might have been drown- ed : she screamed aloud, but as the house was at some distance no one LUCY AND HER DOG. 71 heard her. She had time to give only one scream, however, before Tray seized her by the frock and dragged her out of the water. She was very much terrified, but not at all hurt, and she took care in future always to look before her when she was running. When the weather was bad, and Lucy and her playmate could not seek amusement out of doors, she taught him to play at hide and seek, and many a nice game they had. At the word of command Tray marched down stairs to wait till 72 LUCY AND HER DOG. Lucy had hidden herself, and, on her calling his name, Tray ran up again as fast as he could, and, after seeking all over the room from which he thought the voice came, if he did not find her there he proceeded to another, all the while uttering a short good-natured sound, some- thing between a whine and a bark, showing how much he enjoyed the sport. When he did not discover the object of his search at once he walked leisurely to the door of the room, and then, after sniffing about for a short time, he seldom failed to LUCY AND HER DOG. 73 go direct to the place of conceal- ment. Sometimes when Lucy hid herself in a closet, he scratched at the door, and harked loudly in a knowing sort of tone, as much as to say, “ I’ve found you.” Lucy, like many other little girls, had a bad habit of leaving the doors of the rooms into which she came standing open, although she found them shut when she entered. Her mama said to her one day, 66 What a pity it is, Lucy, that Tray cannot shut the door for you. I fear you will never learn to do so yourself.” 74 LUCY AND HER DOG. “ O, yes, Mama,” exclaimed Lucy, “ that will be delightful, I will teach him !” and immediately Tray’s les- sons began. She took hold of him and spoke to him, telling him what she wanted him to do, just as if poor Tray understood every word she said, and promised him the reward of a piece of cake if he did as she bid him. Tray looked as grave as a judge. Lucy made him stand on his hind legs, and placed his fore paws against the door, giving it at the same time a gentle push. After repeating the lesson three or four LUCY AND HER DOG. 75 times, Tray seemed to understand what she wanted, and at length he succeeded in shutting it himself. He then received his promised re- ward. Lucy was delighted with the pro- gress of her pupil, and next day bounced into the room where mama was sitting, followed by Tray, leav- ing the door standing wide open. “Lucy, my love,” said mama, “you have forgotten the door.” “ Shut the door, Tray !” said Lucy, with an air of command as if quite certain to be instantly obeyed. Tray look- 76 LUCY AND HER DOG. ed up into her face and wagged his tail ! “ Shut the door, Sir !” repeated Lucy, in a tone more peremptory than before. Tray again wagged his tail, and, opening his jaws, yawned in a sort of half-tired man- ner, but did not stir from his seat, and poor Lucy, who had left the door open on purpose to show mama how nicely Tray could shut it, was obliged to go and do so herself. She did not, however, give the matter up, and, by dint of giving Tray a few lessons every day, and rewarding him when he was sue- LUCY AND HER DOG. 77 cessful, he soon learned what she wanted, and she had only to say to him, “Tray, shut the door !” when he would run at once and shut it as carefully as if he had been afraid of injuring it by closing it too ab- ruptly. 78 THE ORIGIN OF THE SNOWDROP. BY A LITTLE GIRL, TWELYE YEARS OF AGE. A snow-flake fell from the summer sky, As though it had burst its chain, Where it lies enthralled in the realms on high, Until winter appears again. It chanced to fall in a garden fair, Where many a flow’ret grew, Watched by a guardian angel’s care, Who bathed them all in dew. It rested near a blooming rose, That shed its fragrance round, ORIGIN OF THE SNOW-DROP. 79 Folding its leaves in soft repose, To a fountain’s silvery sound. The angel smiled on it resting there, And thus addressed the snow : “ What dost thou here, fair child of air, While the summer sunbeams glow ?” The snow-flake said: “ The flowers have died From the scorching sun on high, And, when above, I have often sighed To see their colours fly : Then I vowed to visit the earth, and give New life to each rosy flower, Bidding the drooping blossom live To deck the angel’s bower.” As the snow-flake spake, the flowers that lay All withering on the ground 80 ORIGIN OF THE SNOW-DROP. Bloomed with the blush of a new-born day, And brightness reigned around. Then the angel said : “If thou’lt stay with me Sweet pitying spirit of air, A beauteous form I’ll give to thee Than all these flowers more fair !” Waving her hand, there rose to view, On the place where the snow-flake came, A pure white flower, fresh crowned with dew, And the “ Snow-drop” is its name ! * 81 THE STARS. 11 T MRS. HEMANS. The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handy-work. Psalm xix. 1. No cloud obscures the summer sky, The moon in brightness walks on high, And, set in azure, every star Shines, like a gem of heaven, afar ! 5 82 THE STARS. Child of the earth ! oh ! lift thy glance To yon bright firmament’s expanse ; The glories of its realm explore, And gaze, and wonder, and adore ! Doth it not speak to every sense The marvels of Omnipotence? Seest thou not there the Almighty name, Inscribed in characters of flame ? Count o’er those lamps of quenchless light, That sparkle through the shades of night ; Behold them ! — can a mortal boast To number that celestial host ? THE STARS. 83 Mark well each little star, whose rays In distant splendor meet thy gaze ; Each is a world by Him sustained, Who from eternity hath reigned. Each, shining not for earth alone, Hath suns and planets of its own, And beings, whose existence springs From Him, the all-powerful King of kings. Haply, those glorious beings know Nor stain of guilt, nor tear of wo ; But raising still the adoring voice, For ever in their God rejoice. 84 THE STARS. What then art thou , oh ! child of clay ! Amid creation’s grandeur, say ? E’en as an insect on the breeze, E’en as a dew-drop, lost in seas ! Yet fear thou not! — the sovereign hand, Which spread the ocean and the land, And hung the rolling spheres in air, Hath e’en for thee, a Father’s care ! Be thou at peace ! — the all-seeing eye, Pervading earth, and air, and sky, The searching glance which none may flee, Is still, in mercy, turned on thee. 85 CORNERS OF TIME. “ Corners of Time ! Mama said Harry one day when a morn- ing visitor had gone, to whom Mrs. Herbert had been speaking of the ad- vantage of keeping a watchful guard- ianship over the intervals which occur between finishing one occupa- tion and taking up another, 66 What did you mean ? Pray do tell me, Mama,” he repeated, as he saw a smile gathering on Mrs. Herbert’s 86 CORNERS OF TIME. face at the strangeness of the ques- tion. “Yes, my dear,” said Mrs. Her- bert, “ I am always happy to afford you any explanation you need. Ex- cuse my smile, I did not laugh at you , but at your question . It cer- tainly is an odd term, but is a very expressive one. I met with it some time ago in a book on the improve- ment of time, and one of the argu- ments by which the duty was en- forced was this. A celebrated au- thor, one who had written a great many books, was asked by a friend CORNERS OF TIME. 87 how he, whose time was so com- pletely occupied in other employ- ments, could find leisure for literary pursuits. He replied, I do it by improving the Corners of Time. When I come down stairs to break- fast, I find it not quite ready ; I step into my study, take pen, ink, and paper, and write a few lines. My thoughts continue to flow during breakfast, and when that is over I finish the sentence. In the same manner, when I come home to din- ner, the ladies are not dressed. I 88 CORNERS OF TIME. wash my hands, adjust my cravat, and step into my study. Ten, fifteen, or even twenty minutes sometimes elapse before I am summoned to the dining room, and in that time I can do a good deal of work. Similar intervals occur in the evening, and these I call Corners of Time.” “ O yes, Mama !” said Harry, “ I understand it now.” “And I hope it will make an im- pression on you, Harry,” said Mrs. Herbert. “Much may be done in these 4 odd moments,’ if one but uses CORNERS OF TIME- 89 them rightly. You remember the old saying, which I repeated to you a few days ago, 1 Stroke upon stroke Will fell the oak.’ 5* 90 TO MY DOG. Come hither, honest master Tray, And tell me how it is That after romping all the day You’ve got that solemn phiz ? Short while ago you were so brisk, Barking and bounding with such glee, Leaping with many a funny frisk, While frolicking with me. TO MY DOG. 91 I’m sure you dearly love some fun — Come tell me now, you elf, What is it you are thinking on, On me, or on yourself? If you are tired I’ll make your bed Under the hawthorn tree; And there, with nightcap on your head, How comical you’ll be. I’ll sing you about Robin Hood, And how he used to go Rambling in the merry green wood, With staff and bended bow 92 TO MY DOG. % Or else of Johnny Gilpin’s rout, How he lost hat and wig ! And never dream’t when he set out Of running such a rig. Or I’ll bring my little picture book — What makes you wag your tail ? Ah ! now you’ve such a merry look, There’s nothing did you all. I dare say you’ve been standing still, To let me mount your back, That we may scud o’er dale and hill Like traveller on his hack. TO MY DOG. 93 Or, soldier like, well charge the foe — And force them soon to yield ! But are we quite equipt ? Oh no ! I have forgot my shield. Well, you’re a nice, good, faithful dog. For it you’ll be a winner. Unto the house come let us jog, And you shall have your dinner ! 94 THE COMPLAINTS OF THE POOR. And wherefore do the poor complain ! The rich man asked of me : Come walk abroad with me, I said, And I will answer thee. ’Twas evening, and the frozen streets Were cheerless to behold ; And we were wrapt and coated well, And yet we were a-cold. COMPLAINTS OF THE POOR. We met an old bare-headed man, His locks were few and white ; I asked him what he did abroad In that cold winter night. ’Twas bitter, keen, indeed, he said; But at home no fire had he, And therefore he had come abroad To ask for charity. We met a young bare-footed child, And she begged loud and bold ; I asked her what she did abroad When the wind it blew so cold ? 96 COMPLAINTS OF THE POOR, She said her father was at home, And he lay sick a-bed, And therefore was it she was sent Abroad to beg for bread. We saw a woman sitting down Upon a stone to rest ; She had a baby at her back, And another at her breast. I asked her why she loitered there, When the wind it was so chill ; She turned her head and bade the child That screamed behind be still. COMPLAINTS OF THE POOR. 97 She told us that her husband stray’d A soldier far away, And therefore to her parish she Was begging back her way. I turn’d me to the rich man then, For silently stood he — ’You ask’d me why the poor complain, And these have answer’d thee.” Southey. 98 THE RIVAL GRACES. “ Come, Laura, I will play the little piece which I have just learnt, while you practise your new steps,” said Mary Rivers to her sister ; and, seating herself at the harp, after a short prelude, she poured forth such a flood of harmony as would have delighted the ears of Mozart him- self. Mary Rivers, though two years younger than her sister, was much THE RIVAL GRACES. 