JAMES.
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Last year, my temper was so quick, My angry words came fast and thick, And brother Tom I'd scold and strike When he did what I did not like. I am so sorry! Loving words Are sweeter than the song of birds; And, all this year, I mean to see If I a gentle child can be. |
ALL. (Four or more.)
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The past is past; the year is new: We will be patient, brave, and true; When we are bidden, quick to mind; Unselfish, courteous, and kind; And try in every place to see What good, good children we can be. |
MARIAN DOUGLAS.
The sheep follow the shepherd.
THE SHEEP FOLLOW THE SHEPHERD.
he tenth chapter of St. John says, "He calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them out. He goeth before them, and the sheep follow him; for they know his voice. And a stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him; for they know not the voice of strangers."
But may it not be the form or dress of the shepherd that the sheep know, and follow him? To test this, a traveller, who had put the question, once exchanged dresses with a shepherd, and went amongst the sheep.
The traveller in the shepherd's dress called the sheep, and tried to lead them; but "they knew not his voice," and did not move. But when the shepherd called them, though he was in the traveller's dress, they ran at once to him, thus proving that it was the voice that led them.
I have a dog that will sometimes bark at me when I put on an overcoat which he has not seen me wear before. But, the moment he hears my voice, he seems ashamed of not having known me, and will whine, as if he would say, "Pardon me, good master. It was very stupid in me not to know you. It was your coat I did not know. I will try to be wiser the next time."
DORA BURNSIDE
"A FRIEND IN NEED."
enry lived in the great city of London. He was known as "the boy at the crossing." He used to sweep one of the crossings in Oxford Street. In wet weather these crossings are very muddy. Now and then some one would give him a penny for his work. He did not make much in a day; but what he got was a great help to his mother. That thought kept him daily at his work. One day he saw a little girl trying to lead her little brother across the street. The carts and the horses made her afraid, and she ran back timidly.
"What's the matter, little girl?" asked Henry.
"I am afraid we shall be run over," said the girl.
"I'll help you across," said Henry. Then, lifting the little boy in his arms, he took the girl by the hand, and led her safely to the other side of the street.
"Thank you!" said the little girl; and "Thank you!" said her little brother, as plainly as he could speak it.
I went up and asked the boy with the broom if he knew the children. "I never saw them before in my life," said he; "but such little ones can't get across without help."
"You are a good boy," said I. "I think you must have a good father."
"I had one once," said he; "but now I have only a good mother."
"Well, Henry," said I, "give her this shilling, and tell her I send it to her for teaching her boy to do good when he can get a chance."
Tears came to the boy's eyes. A shilling seemed a good deal of money to him, and it pleased him all the more because it was given him for his mother.
"Thank you, sir; thank you!" said he, and he ran back to his work one of the happiest boys in London, I think, at that moment.
JANE OLIVER.
"IN A MINUTE."
f you asked Dora to do any thing, she would reply, "In a minute." It was a bad habit she had. "Dora, please bring me a drink of water."—"In a minute."—"Dora, go up stairs, and bring me down my comb."—"Yes, mother, in a minute."—"Dora, come to your dinner."—"In a minute."
One day the bird was hopping about on the floor. Somebody went out, leaving the door open, just as "somebody" is always doing. Dora's mother said, "Dora, shut the door, or the cat will be after your bird."
"Yes, mother, in a minute," said Dora. "I just want to finish this line in my drawing." But the cat did not wait till this was done. In he popped, and with one dart he had the bird in his mouth.
Down went the slate on the floor, and away went cat, bird, and Dora. There was a wild chase on the lawn. "In a minute" Dora came back weeping, with the poor bird in her hand, but, oh! the life had all been shaken out of him.
How Dora cried! Mamma was sorry for her, but said, "A great many things may happen 'in a minute,' Dora. I hope the next time you are told to do a thing, you will do it at once."
MARY ADDISON.
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Spring and Summer and russet Fall Come and go with a varied cheer; Each has something, and none has all, Of the good things of the year. Winter laughs, though the trees are bare, With a kindly laugh that is good to see; For of all the forest is none so rare As his merry Christmas-tree. It blooms with many a taper's flame; And hidden under the leaves of green Are fruits of every shape and name, The funniest ever seen,— |
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Book and bundle, and scarf, and shawl, Picture and peanuts, skate and saw, Candy and album, and bat and ball, Hatchet, and doll, and taw, Games and frames, and comical dames With walnut faces wrinkled and old, Fillets rare for the sunny hair, And jewels of pearl and gold. For the good St. Nicholas blest this tree, And it blooms and bears for every one, With a gift of love to you and me, For beauty, or use, or fun. Poorer than any the Child whose name Has given a name to our Christmas-tree; Yet kingly gifts to his cradle came, And kingly gifts gave He. GEORGE S. BURLEIGH. |
DOWN THE RIVER AFTER THE BOY.
alter Dale was a little boy six years old, who lived with his parents on the bank of the River Thames in England. One day, after dinner, he went to the water's edge to play.
Seeing a small boat tied to a big stone by a rope, he pulled the boat up to the shore. "What a nice little boat!" said he. "I will get into it, and rock it, as I once saw a big boy do."
So he got into the boat, and began to rock it. The boat got loose, and drifted down the river. Walter did not notice this until he was quite a distance from the shore; then, turning round, he saw what had happened. Every moment the current was carrying him further from home.
Walter was not a timid boy, and, instead of crying, he began to reason in this way: "The boat does not leak. It is safe and sound. There are no waves to make me afraid. The wind does not blow. Here on a seat is a thick blanket. In this box is a loaf of bread and a knife. The water of the river is good to drink, and here is a tin mug. I think I will not cry, but hope for the best."
So he sat down. He called to some people on the shore; but they did not hear him. He stood up, and waved his hat to a man in a passing boat, and cried, "Help, help!" But the man thought it was some little fellow making fun of him.
Meanwhile Walter's mother had become anxious. She ran down to the river, and followed his foot-tracks to the edge of the water. Then she ran back to her husband; but he was not in the house. In about an hour he came back, and she said, "Quick, quick! Get a boat, and call John to help you. Walter is drifting down the river in that little green boat, I am sure."
Mr. Dale ran out of the house, called his man John, and they went down to the bank. Here they took a good fast boat, pulled it out into the stream, and began to row with the current.
It was getting late. A mist was creeping over the great city of London. They could hardly see the tall stores, the masts and steeples on one side. But on they went, rowing swiftly with their good oars, as if for dear life.
They looked out sharply on both sides to catch a sight of the little green boat. At last, when they had rowed about two miles, with the tide in their favor, Mr. Dale cried out, "I see it! I see it! But, ah! it is empty. I see no sign of a boy in it. What can have become of poor Walter?"
On they rowed, and at last, came up with the boat. Still no Walter was to be seen. The poor father was in despair, when all at once Walter started up from under the great blanket, where he had been hiding. He cried out, "Here I am, papa, safe and sound!"
"Oh, you little rogue! Come here and let me pull your ears!" They all got back to their home in time for a late tea, which mother had kept warm for them. Walter was kissed and then cuffed; but the cuffs were so tender, that they made him laugh even more than the kisses.
ALFRED STETSON.
"FLUTTER, FLUTTER!"
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Flutter, flutter, with never a stop, All the leaves have begun to drop; While the wind, with a skip and a hop, Goes about gathering in his crop. Flutter, flutter, on bustling-wings, All the plump little feathered things: Thrush and bobolink, finch and jay, Follow the sun on his holiday. Flutter, flutter, the snowflakes all Jostle each other in their fall. Crowd and push into last year's nest, And hide the seeds from robin-redbreast. Flutter, flutter, the hours go by; Nobody sees them as they fly; Nobody hears their fairy tread, Nor the rustle of their wings instead. |
MARY N. PRESCOTT.
DRAWING-LESSON.
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"Are you waking?" shout the breezes To the tree-tops waving high, "Don't you hear the happy tidings Whispered to the earth and sky? Have you caught them in your dreaming, Brook and rill in snowy dells? Do you know the joy we bring you In the merry Christmas bells? Ding, dong! ding, dong, Christmas bells! "Are you waking, flowers that slumber In the deep and frosty ground? Do you hear what we are breathing To the listening world around? For we bear the sweetest story That the glad year ever tells: How He loved the little children,— He who brought the Christmas bells! Ding, dong! ding, dong, Christmas bells! |
GEORGE COOPER.
JACK THE MAGPIE.
ne day last summer, a man in Colorado found a magpie by the roadside. Its wings had been clipped, so that it could not fly. The man gave it to a little boy named Ernest Hart.
He lived with his parents in a neat cottage near by a mountain stream. He ran home, and showed the bird to his sister Edith. They named it Jack.
Jack was quite a large bird. His body was black as coal; his breast was white; and his wings and tail shaded off into a dark green. His bill was long and very strong. He had a shrewd, knowing look. As he was quite tame, he must have been some one's pet.
He would hop and strut around in such a funny, pompous way, that one could not help laughing. He would take food from any one's hand, but would not let any one touch him, except Mr. Hart, the children's father.
To Mr. Hart he seemed to take a great liking. He would hop on to his hand or shoulder: he would follow him all over the place. As soon as Mr. Hart came into the house, Jack would stand outside the door, and scream to him to come out. Indeed, Jack was almost too fond of him.
One day when Mr. Hart was chopping wood, Jack kept laying his bill within two or three inches of the place where the axe fell. It seemed just as if he wanted his bill chopped off.
Jack could talk a little. He could say "pretty," "what," and "yes, sir." When hungry, he would come round to the kitchen-door. There he would keep up a loud chattering, till food was given him to eat.
Jack was shy of Marcus, the dog. But, while Marcus was eating his dinner, Jack would steal up, and seize a bone from the plate. Then he would run off and hide it.
I believe that all magpies are thieves. I know that Jack was a sad thief. He would carry off almost any thing he saw lying about. One day he was caught in the act of carrying off the gardener's pipe.
It was fun for Ernest and Edith to watch him at his mischief. All summer they made much of him. Now, in October, though the trees are still green and the wild flowers are not gone, we have had in our Colorado home a taste of winter.
The ground has been white with snow. Jack is still with us, and seems quite happy. Edith and Ernest may stay here all winter. Perhaps I may tell you something of their winter sports. Would you like to hear it?
AUNT SADIE.
PORTRAITS FOR LITTLE FOLKS.
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This is Master Baby, Paying a morning call, Sitting so good upon his chair, But speaking not at all. Listening to every word, The funny little man! Wondering at the news he hears, Thinking all he can. |
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This little lady, I'd have you know, Is Miss Mary Vernon, With cheeks in a glow. She has a doll Bella, Quite dear to her heart, And takes her to ride In a nice little cart. |
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This is Tommy Trip: Bubbles he can blow; When a bubble breaks too soon, Tommy cries, "Don't go!" Older folks I know, Who their fine schemes make, And, when any fine scheme fails, Cry, "Oh, do not break!" |
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'Tis the winter cold, All the ponds are ice; Susan loves the winter cold, Calls the weather nice. Warm with muff and coat, She can go and skate; She can glide along the ice At a merry rate. |
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This is Mary Jane, See! she has a saucer: To her cat she says, "Give me up your paw, sir. I've some fresh, nice milk You will relish greatly." Pussy then put up her paw; All this happened lately. |
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This is Baby May: She looks out to spy If her own dear papa comes On the road near by. Yes, she sees him now, He is coming fast; For he loves his Baby May, Loves her first and last. |
K.G.
