Rover and his Little Master.
“COME, Rover!” said Harry, as he passed a fine old Newfoundland dog that lay on a mat at the door; “come, Rover! I am going down to the river to sail my boat, and I want you to go with me.”
Rover opened his large eyes, and looked lazily at his little master.
“Come, Rover!—Rover!”
But the dog didn’t care to move, and so Harry went off to the river-side alone. He had not been gone a great while, before a thought of her boy came suddenly into the mother’s mind. Remembering that he had a little vessel, and that the river was near, it occurred to her that he might have gone there.
Instantly her heart began to throb with alarm.
“Is Harry with you?” she called up to Harry’s father, who was in his study. But Harry’s father said he was not there.
“I’m afraid he’s gone to the river with his boat,” said the mother.
“To the river!” And Mr. Lee dropped his pen, and came quickly down. Taking up his hat, he went hurriedly from the house. Rover was still lying upon the mat, with his head upon his paws and his eyes shut.
“Rover!” said his master, in a quick, excited voice, “where is Harry? Has he gone to the river? Away and see! quick!”
The dog must have understood every word, for he sprang eagerly to his feet, and rushed toward the river. Mr. Lee followed as fast as he could run. When he reached the river-bank, he saw his little boy in the water, with Rover dragging him towards the shore. He was just in time to receive the half-drowned child in his arms, and carry him home to his mother.
Harry, who remained insensible, was placed in a warm bed. He soon, however, revived, and in an hour or two was running about again. But after this, Rover would never leave the side of his little master, when he wandered beyond the garden gate. Wherever you found Harry, there Rover was sure to be—sometimes walking by his side, and sometimes lying on the grass, with his big eyes watching every movement.
Once Harry found his little vessel, which had been hidden away since he went with it to the river, and, without his mother seeing him, he started again for the water. Rover, as usual, was with him. On his way to the river he saw some flowers, and, in order to gather them, put his boat down upon the grass. Instantly Rover picked it up in his mouth, and walked back towards the house with it. After going a little way, he stopped, looked round, and waited until Harry had got his hand full of flowers. The child then saw that Rover had his boat, and tried to get it from him; but Rover played round him, always keeping out of his reach, and retreating towards the house, until he got back within the gate. Then he bounded into the house, and laid the boat at the feet of Harry’s mother.
Harry was a little angry with the good old dog, at first; but when his mother explained to him what Rover meant, he hugged him round the neck, and said he would never go down to the river any more.
Harry is a man now, and Rover has long since been dead; but he often thinks of the dear old dog that saved him from drowning when he was a child; and it gives him great pleasure to remember that he never beat Rover, as some boys beat their dogs, when they are angry, and was never unkind to him. Had it been otherwise, the thought would have given him great pain.
James and Henry;
OR, “TWO WRONGS NEVER MAKE A RIGHT.”
A MOTHER, who loved her children very much, sat reading a good book one day, while her two little boys were playing in the next room. All at once loud cries and angry words fell upon her ears, and gave her great pain. She rose up quickly, and went in to the children, and there she saw a sad sight indeed. James, her eldest boy, whose eighth birthday had just been passed, was standing over his younger brother, Henry, with his hand raised, and his face red with anger; and Henry had doubled his little fist, and was ready to strike again.
“James! Henry!” cried their mother, as soon as her eyes fell upon them.
“Mother! mother! Henry knocked over my house, and he did it on purpose,” said the eldest boy, a blush of shame covering his face, and hiding the red anger that was on it an instant before.
“No, mother, I didn’t do it on purpose,” spoke up little Henry. “It was an accident; and he struck me.”
“And then what did you do?” asked the mother, taking the little boy by the hand, and looking him in the face.
Henry held down his head, and replied, “I struck him again.”
“Oh, how wrong that was!”
“But I didn’t mean to knock over his house.”
“How was it, James?” the mother asked, appealing to the eldest boy.
“He did knock over my house.”
“But, do you believe it was done on purpose?”
“He kept pushing his foot against it all the while, and I told him not to do it,” said James.
“Why, Henry?”
Henry again hung down his head, and was silent.
“And so you did it on purpose, Henry?”
“Oh no, no, mother, I didn’t do it on purpose,” cried Henry, bursting into tears and burying his face in his mother’s lap. “It was an accident. I did put my foot against the house, just to plague him; but I didn’t mean to push it over. Something made my foot go hard against it. But I am sorry.”
And Henry sobbed aloud.
“Henry is sorry for what he has done, James; he did not do it on purpose. But you were angry and struck him on purpose. Are you not sorry?”
“But he was trying to plague me; and he is always trying to plague me.”
“That was wrong, James. But, you know that I have often said to you—two wrongs never make a right. Do you feel any happier now, because you struck your brother?”
James was silent.
“Tell me, my son, do you think you are happier for what you have done?”
The little boy said, “No.”
“But you feel very unhappy?”
“Yes, mother.”
“That is a sign that you have done wrong. When we do right it makes us happy. Are you not always sorry after you have done wrong?”
“Yes, mother.”
“You are sorry that you struck Henry?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And Henry is sorry for having tried to plague you; ain’t you, Henry?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then give James your hand, my son. He is sorry for having struck you.”
The little boys took hold of each other’s hands, and looked into each other’s faces. But tears were in both their eyes, and on their cheeks.
“Now kiss each other with the kiss of forgiveness.”
The children put their arms round each other’s necks, and kissed each other with a warm kiss of love and forgiveness.
“Now bring me that little book lying on the table, James,” said the mother.
James brought the book, and the mother opened it, and read:—
“‘Whatever brawls disturb the street,
There should be peace at home;
Where sisters dwell, and brothers meet,
Quarrels should never come.
“‘Birds in their little nests agree,
And ’tis a shameful sight,
When children of one family
Fall out, and chide, and fight.
“‘Hard names at first, and angry words,
Which are but noisy breath,
May come to clubs and naked swords,
To murder and to death.’
“Think of that, my dear children! ‘To murder and to death!’ If you quarrel with each other now, instead of growing up and loving each other, you may grow up to hate each other. I remember two brothers that were once no older than you are. They were always quarrelling with each other, and they kept on quarrelling as they grew up. One day, after they had become men, they got into a dispute about something, when one of them struck the other a dreadful blow with a stick and killed him. Was not that a terrible thing? And who knows but that you, if you keep on quarrelling as you do now, may grow up to hate one another.”
“Henry, do you know why it is that you so often try to tease your brother James?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why is it, my son?”
“I let evil spirits come into me, and do what they wish me to do.”
“Yes, that is the reason. But can’t you keep them out.”
“Yes, ma’am, if I try.”
“Do you like to have evil spirits in you, instead of good angels.”
“Oh no. I love the good angels, and I hate the wicked spirits that make me do wrong.”
“How can you keep the wicked spirits out?”
“By not doing the wrong things they want me to do, and then the good angels will drive them all away.”
“I hope, my dear children, as you know so well what is right, that you will never again let wicked spirits from hell have anything to do with you. When they again tempt you to plague your brother, Henry, you must not do it, and then they will go away; and you, James, if Henry should again be so weak and foolish as to let the evil spirits come into him, must not let them come into you at the same time. If, instead of letting them tempt you to strike him, you permit the good angels to govern you, you will speak kindly to him, and say, ‘Don’t, brother, please.’ I am sure he will do so no longer. By doing this, you will help him to cast out the evil spirits who are seeking to destroy him.”
“How destroy him, mother?”
“All evil spirits seek to destroy children by making them wicked like themselves, so that they may be cast into hell. They hate children so much, that, if they were not restrained by the Lord, they would do them all manner of harm—would utterly destroy them; for they burn with hatred towards little children.”
“But the Lord won’t let them hurt us.”
“Not if we will keep them out of our hearts. But if we let them come in, he cannot save us. And, whenever you are angry with each other, they come into your little hearts. Oh! my dear children, keep out these dreadful enemies, or they will utterly destroy you.”
The children burst into tears, kissed each other and their mother again and again, and promised that they would try and never speak or act unkindly to one another as long as they lived. We hope they will not; and that all our little readers will try, like them, to keep evil spirits far away, that good angels may be round about them and dwell in their young hearts.
