Riverside with trees
I
I walked by the side of a tranquil stream,That the sun had tinged with its parting beam;The water was still, and so crystal clearThat every spray had its image there.
I walked by the side of a tranquil stream,
That the sun had tinged with its parting beam;
The water was still, and so crystal clear
That every spray had its image there.
And every reed that o’er it bowed,And the crimson streak and the silvery cloud,And all that was bright, and all that was fair,And all that was gay was reflected there.
And every reed that o’er it bowed,
And the crimson streak and the silvery cloud,
And all that was bright, and all that was fair,
And all that was gay was reflected there.
But I took a stone that lay beside,And I cast it far on the glassy tide;And gone was the charm of the pictured scene,And the sky so bright and the landscape green.
But I took a stone that lay beside,
And I cast it far on the glassy tide;
And gone was the charm of the pictured scene,
And the sky so bright and the landscape green.
And I bade them mark how an idle word,Too lightly said, or too deeply heard,Or a harsh reproof, or a look unkind,May spoil the peace of a heavenly mind.
And I bade them mark how an idle word,
Too lightly said, or too deeply heard,
Or a harsh reproof, or a look unkind,
May spoil the peace of a heavenly mind.
Though sweet be the peace, and holy the calm,And the heavenly beam be bright and warm,The heart that it gilds is all as weakAs the wave that reflects the crimson streak.
Though sweet be the peace, and holy the calm,
And the heavenly beam be bright and warm,
The heart that it gilds is all as weak
As the wave that reflects the crimson streak.
You cannot impede the celestial rayThat gilds the dawn of eternal day,But you may so trouble the bosom it cheers,’Twill cease to be true to the image it bears.
You cannot impede the celestial ray
That gilds the dawn of eternal day,
But you may so trouble the bosom it cheers,
’Twill cease to be true to the image it bears.
Stream
Invalid
T
The next miracle I have to tell you of, my dear children, is one which shows particularly our Lord’s divine quality of mercy. It is called “the raising of the daughter of Jairus,” which means—restoring her to life.
Our Saviour was one day at the house of His disciple Matthew at Capernaum, when a man of importance in the city, a ruler in the synagogue, named Jairus, came to Him. Thisman had an only child, a daughter about twelve years old, who was lying at the point of death; and he came to Jesus in the hope that He would cure her.
Generally, the poor and lowly were the first to believe in our Saviour. The rich were slow to accept the self-denying doctrines which He taught; the learned were too wise in their own esteem to listen to His instruction. But when they were in affliction both the rich and the learned sometimes came to Jesus to seek His aid. So it was in this instance.
We may imagine what the unhappy father suffered at the prospect of losing his darling child,—at the thought of her fading away from him, and sinking into the grave. As he was rich, we may suppose that all had been done by the doctors that could be done; so now in an agony of despair he turned to seek our Saviour. No doubt he thought of all the miraculous cures Jesus had effected, as he went towards Matthew’s house, where he found our Saviour at the door teaching a crowd of people. Jairus immediately fell at His feet, and with heart-felt earnestness “besought him greatly” that He would come and see his child.
Jesus rose, and went forth, followed by a number of people, while Jairus led the way to his own house. The poor father would have walked quickly, every moment seeming an age till he reached his sick child’s bedside, but the crowd pressing round, interfered with their speed, and soon there arose another cause of delay.
In the crowd was a poor woman who had been very ill for a long time. She had consulted many doctors, but none could cure her; and at last she had spent all her money in trying to regain her health. Hearing that Jesus was near, she approached Him in great fear and trembling. She was almost crushed by the crowd, as she struggled to come near Him; but at length succeeded so far as to be able to stretch forth her hand, and touch the border of His mantle. In a moment she felt that she was recoveringfrom her illness. Our Saviour stopped, and turned towards her, when she cast herself at His feet, fearing for her presumption. But He looked graciously upon her, for He knew why she had touched His garment; then speaking to her, He said:—“Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole.” And from that hour she was cured.
After this incident, Jairus was again hurrying on, leading the way to his house, when messengers met him with the agonizing intelligence that the child was already dead—gone beyond the reach of human help. Thereupon Christ turned to Jairus, saying:—“Be not afraid; only believe, and she shall be made whole.” For it was as easy to Him to bring back the dead, as to restore the living.
He went into the house with three of His disciples and the parents of the child. Then He addressed words of comfort to the father and mother, saying,—“The damsel is not dead but sleepeth;”—meaning that her death would only be like a short sleep, because He was going to bring her back to life.
Then taking hold of the little girl’s hand, as though He were about to waken her from a pleasant sleep, He said: “Talitha cumi!”—that is, “Damsel, arise!” The words were no sooner spoken, than the colour returned to her cheeks, her eyes opened, and she arose as if just awakened from a refreshing sleep.
We are told that “the parents and all present were astonished with a great astonishment.” We may also suppose how great was their delight, and how unbounded was their gratitude to our blessed Lord.
Flowers
Dog begging
I
In giving you an account of Alec, one of my little boy friends, I must give you at the same time an account of Elfie, one of my little dog friends, for the two are inseparable. Both these friends of mine are Scotch; and I met them first when the little boy was yet in petticoats, and the doggie a tiny little puppy that had just left its mother.
The two young things grew up together, Elfie, the dog, becoming every day more of a companion for Alec, the boy. But the dog grew old the fastest, and when the event I am going to tell you of occurred, Alec was about nine years old and Elfie about seven; which is in fact quite old for a dog, and an age at which he is likely to be as wise as ever he will be.
Alec had no brother, but he had a cousin at whose house he used to spend a good deal of his time. Little Arthur was about four years younger than Alec, and would follow him about like his shadow, looking up to his big cousin as an authority on all matters. He learnt from Alec to consider Elfie the most wonderful dog in the world, with more sense than most people. He thought Elfie understood everything that was said to him, and could do almost everything he was told to do. Many an hour the three would spend together; and Alec and Arthur never appeared tired of seeing Elfie go through the common dog’s trick with a piece of sugar on his nose. When the word “Trust” was said to him, he let the sugar remain on the tip of his nose, while he only squinted at it with all his might. Directly he heard the words “Paid for” he would jerk it into the air, and snap it up as it fell. This is how the three are amusing themselves, you see, in the picture.
One morning when it was very hot, Arthur’s mammaand I were sitting under the shade of some trees in the garden, working and reading. We knew that little Arthur was about somewhere in the garden or the grounds with his cousin Alec, who, we thought, was old enough to keep the little one out of harm’s way. Suddenly we heard a sound of panting and puffing, and saw Elfie tearing across the garden towards us. With his short legs and long hair he appeared as if he was rolling over the ground: his little red tongue was hanging out of his mouth, and we could see his bright eyes gleaming with excitement through the overhanging locks of hair.
“What can be the matter with the dog?” exclaimed Arthur’s mamma, jumping up. “Has he gone mad?”
As she spoke, Elfie began barking furiously, and seizing her dress in his mouth, tried to drag her away. A thought struck me, and I cried out,—“Something is wrong with the boys, and Elfie has come to let us know!”
In the direction Elfie had come from, but hidden from our view by trees, was a large piece of water: towards this we hastened. Fortunately Arthur’s papa was sitting in the library, of which the window was open: we called to him as we ran, and he followed as fast as he could. Coming in sight of the water, our worst fears were realized. Only a few yards from the bank, but in quite deep water, we beheld the canoe floating bottom upwards, and the two boys clinging to it; or rather, Alec clinging to the canoe with one arm, and with the other supporting Arthur, who had fainted.
The father plunged in instantly, and in a moment brought Arthur to shore, and placed him in his mother’s arms. Alec, left alone, easily supported himself by the canoe till his uncle returned, and brought him also on to the bank. The fault was Alec’s, who had taken out the canoe from the boat-house without permission; but what praise could be too great for Elfie, who had probably saved two lives by his intelligence? We all agreed he was the most wonderful doggie in the world.
Child in bed
MORNING.[play]
1.Wake up, little Maud, ’tis a sunshiny day,The kitten is up, and already at play;And Maud like the merriest kitten can run,And scamper, and frolic, and laugh at the fun.
1.
Wake up, little Maud, ’tis a sunshiny day,
The kitten is up, and already at play;
And Maud like the merriest kitten can run,
And scamper, and frolic, and laugh at the fun.
2.Wake up, little Maud, for on thicket and treeThe birdies are singing as gay as can be.As sweet and as clear can my little Maud singAs ever the merriest bird on the wing.
2.
Wake up, little Maud, for on thicket and tree
The birdies are singing as gay as can be.
As sweet and as clear can my little Maud sing
As ever the merriest bird on the wing.
3.Wake up, little Maud, for the flowers are awake,The sweet breezes are blowing on mountain and lake;The world is all beauty and brightness to-day,Then wake, little Maud, with the roses to play.
3.
Wake up, little Maud, for the flowers are awake,
The sweet breezes are blowing on mountain and lake;
The world is all beauty and brightness to-day,
Then wake, little Maud, with the roses to play.
Morning in the country
T
The course of my story obliges me now to follow the doings of Maurice’s cousin Eusèbe through one chapter. His goat Jeanne had died some time ago; to her had succeeded a monkey, then a dog; afterwards some birds, and last of all a lamb. With his usual caprice these had all been discarded in turn, and he had at this moment no animal to pet or to torment. It was a hot day towards the end of August, and Eusèbe lounged about in one easy chair after another, trying in vain to occupy or amuse himself. Suddenly, the idea occurred to him that he would like to pass a few days in Paris.
Now Mr. and Mrs. de Malassise were just thinking of going to stay for a few weeks at Dieppe, which was a place more suitable certainly for the hot weather than Paris. But Eusèbe had taken a fancy to Paris; and to gain his point, he acted the little comedy which always succeeded so well with his parents: he screamed, and rolled over and over on the ground like a mad child. They were frightened, and started off with him the very next morning, leaving the shady woods of Malassise for the dust of the Boulevard des Italiens, where they usually lodged when they came to Paris.
On the afternoon of their arrival, Eusèbe asked his father to take him for a walk as far as the square of the Bastille. He had heard that street-jugglers often performed their tricks there: and, hot as it was, he insistedthat his mamma, a delicate weak little woman, should walk with them.
They had walked as far as the gate of St. Denis, when a man approached them, who had some little watches for sale fit for children. He went up to Eusèbe, who, although such a big boy, was not above stopping to look at the glittering watches with their bright chains attached. Then the man said in a low voice,—
“Would you like to buy a beautiful horse, my prince?”
This title of prince was pleasant to the ears of Eusèbe, and with an air of kind protection, he replied,—
“What is it you ask, my good fellow?”
“I ask if your lordship feels disposed to make the purchase of an extraordinary and beautiful wooden horse.”
“I have rocking-horses of all sorts and sizes,” rejoined Eusèbe.
“I doubt it not, your Highness.”
This title of highness completed the work of turning the little boy’s head; and putting on the air of being a very great person, he said,—
“Why, you seem to know who I am.”
“Indeed, who does not know your lordship?”
Now of course this cunning fellow did not really suppose that Eusèbe was either a prince or a lord, but saw very well that he was a spoilt child, and thought it would be a good opportunity for selling Cressida—for Cressida it was that he was offering,—and he dared not sell it publicly.
Mr. and Mrs. de Malassise, who had walked on a little in front, now stopped, and the former called out, “What’s the matter?”
“Sir,” replied the man, when he came up to them, “I have a beautiful wooden horse to sell, which walks and moves about like a real horse.”
“Be off!” said Mr. de Malassise, who did not like the look of the man; “we don’t want to buy it.”
“Would you just come and see it, noble sir? it is atmy house, only two steps from here. It has the movements of a live horse.”
“No, No!”
“But you need not buy it, sir, if you would only come to see it. It is an extraordinary horse.”
“Papa, I want to see it,” said Eusèbe.
“No, no, my dear,” urged his father.
“Papa, Iwillgo to see the horse,” and Eusèbe began to cry.
“Why oppose him, my dear?” said Mrs. de Malassise, “as he is so anxious to see the horse. Suppose he should have an attack of the nerves out here! what should we do?”
“There, you hear, papa; why do you oppose me? I’m going to have an attack of the nerves, I feel I am.”
“Oh, let us go and see the horse then, pray,” said Mr. de Malassise, resigning himself with rather a bad grace.
They had followed their guide for about a quarter of a mile, when an empty hackney-coach passed. The man stopped it, saying, “Perhaps, sir, the lady will be tired if she walks all the way; had you not better take this hackney-coach? I will get up on the box, and direct the driver.”
“Why, you said it was only two steps,” urged Mr. de Malassise.
“Oh, it is not far,” replied the man.
“Yes, yes, let us have the coach; I can’t walk any more,” exclaimed Eusèbe.
So of course they got into the hackney-coach, while the man who had the horse to sell seated himself beside the coachman. On they went, right out of Paris, into the narrow streets of a suburb inhabited by very poor people. On they went still, while the houses became more scattered, and the roads were so bad that the horses could hardly get along.
At last the coachman pulled up, and taking out his pipe, he began to light it, as he said, “I won’t go no further; the patience of a hackney-coachman has its limits, theseroads ain’t fit for any carriage, and the sun’s hot enough to kill a camel of the desert, much more horses like mine.”
“THE HORSES COULD HARDLY GET ALONG.”
“THE HORSES COULD HARDLY GET ALONG.”
Mr. de Malassise had lost patience also, and called out to their guide in an angry voice, “Now, my man, tell me at once, where are you leading us to?”
“My noble gentleman,” the man replied, “do not be angry; I did not think it was so far, but you can see the house now; and, if the lady will get down from the carriage, we can reach it on foot in two minutes.”
Mr. de Malassise looked out of the carriage window on one side, and his wife on the other. They saw a few scattered houses of the meanest description, and began to view their position with dismay; but Eusèbe found it an amusing adventure.
“I wish, now,” he said, “we were in Sicily, and then we might be attacked by brigands in such an out-of-the-way place as this. I read about them in that little book you gave me yesterday, you know, mamma.”
At this remark Eusèbe’s mother began to laugh as if it were very funny and brilliant; even his father was almost restored to good humour by it. And when Eusèbe added—“only, neither that man nor the coachman are as handsome as brigands”—the father and mother exchanged looks of congratulation at the wit and humour of their son.
They walked a short distance along the dirty, badly-paved street, and entered a small low house almost in ruins. You may imagine how well it was furnished, when I tell you that Mrs. de Malassise was obliged to stand, because the master of the house—that is, the man who conducted them—had but one chair to offer her, and that was lame of two of its legs. He opened a large closet, the door of which was concealed, appearing only like a panel in the wall, and he led forth a pretty little black horse, scarcely bigger than a large dog;—but I need not describe Cressida a second time to my young readers.
“HOW DID YOU COME BY THIS HORSE?”
“HOW DID YOU COME BY THIS HORSE?”
Now although Eusèbe had often had Cressida described to him by Maurice, he had never happened to see the little horse; consequently he did not recognise it on the present occasion; nor had he ever imagined Cressida to be so wonderful as he found this horse to be. He had no sooner seated himself in the saddle than the pressure of his knees against the sides of the horse caused the legs to move, and it walked round the room. Then, when Eusèbe in his delight very naturally began to pat it on the neck, this had the effect of causing the little horse to neighjoyfully, just like a real pony. Eusèbe’s father and mother were as much astonished and delighted as he was.
“How did you come by this horse?” inquired Mr. de Malassise, in a voice which sufficiently showed the suspicions he entertained.
“It was given to me by a friend of mine,” replied the man.
“That was a generous friend. And how much do you ask for it?”
“Eighty francs, though I know it is worth a great deal more.” Then seeing that the small price he asked had only made his customer more suspicious, he went on:—
“My noble gentleman, I will tell you the truth. Formerly I was rich, and sold toys in a shop on the Boulevard; but misfortunes came upon me, I had to give up my business, and of all the beautiful things I had, this wooden horse is the only one I kept. I kept it for my children to play with; but, alas! noble sir, it has pleased heaven to take them away from me. Ah, my children! my children! they resembled your beautiful son. I would have kept this horse always in remembrance of them, but hunger, sir—hunger compels me to sell it.”
He dried his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Poor man!” said Mrs. de Malassise, much touched. Then she whispered to her husband, “My dear, I would give him twenty francs, and leave him the horse he is so fond of.”
“I see no reason for giving him twenty francs, andIthink we should be wise to have nothing to do with the horse either. I suspect it’s a matter which the police will have something to do with sooner or later.”
“Oh, what a hard heart you have! and how suspicious you are!” rejoined the wife. “I am sure the poor man is truthful. Just look at his despair.”
The man was sitting on the ground, hiding his face with his hands. He seemed to have partly heard the whispered conversation, and said, “Her ladyship is an angel ofcharity, but I should not regret parting with the horse when I knew it would be in the hands of such a good young gentleman.”
Eusèbe at last put an end to the hesitation of his parents in a very simple way.
“Now, then,” he said, “why don’t you buy the horse?”
“No, no,” said his father, “let us go away.”
“Papa,” cried Eusèbe, “I won’t go away from here till you buy the horse.” And he began to tear his hair, and stamp on the ground, uttering piercing shrieks.
“I want the horse! I want the horse!” he cried.
“My noble gentleman,” urged the man, “what are eighty francs to you? When I was rich I would have given more to spare my children’s tears.”
“Oh dear! oh dear! I feel that I am going to fall,” cried Eusèbe, turning round and round.
“Oh, calm yourself, my child,” cried his mother.
“Eusèbe, my dear boy,” said his father kindly, “I will give you another horse. You shall have the most expensive that can be found.”
“No, I want this one; I want this one.”
“Well, well, you shall have it—there; only don’t cry.”
“But I want it directly.”
“You shall have it directly. We will take it away with us.”
Eusèbe became calm as if by enchantment. He had not really shed a tear, but his eyes were red from being rubbed, and his hair was pushed up in indescribable disorder.
“Come, kiss me,” said his father.
“Yes, papa; but do you know that twice to-day I have very nearly had an attack of nerves through your fault.”
Matters being thus comfortably arranged at last, the eighty francs were paid, the horse was put into the coach, and they all returned to the Boulevard des Italiens. Here Eusèbe amused himself the whole evening by riding his pretty little horse round and round the drawing-room.
Dog
The Dog will come when he is called,The Cat will run away;The Monkey’s cheek is very bald,The Goat is fond of play.The Parrot is a prate-apace,Yet knows not what he says;The noble Horse will win the race,Or draw you in a chaise.
The Dog will come when he is called,
The Cat will run away;
The Monkey’s cheek is very bald,
The Goat is fond of play.
The Parrot is a prate-apace,
Yet knows not what he says;
The noble Horse will win the race,
Or draw you in a chaise.
Pig
The Pig is not a feeder nice,The Squirrel loves a nut;The Wolf would eat you in a trice,The Buzzard’s eyes are shut.The Lark sings high up in the air,The Linnet in the tree;The Swan he has a bosom fair,And who so proud as he?
The Pig is not a feeder nice,
The Squirrel loves a nut;
The Wolf would eat you in a trice,
The Buzzard’s eyes are shut.
The Lark sings high up in the air,
The Linnet in the tree;
The Swan he has a bosom fair,
And who so proud as he?
Peacock
Oh, yes, the Peacock is more proudBecause his tail has eyes;The Lion roars so very loud,He’d fill you with surprise.The Raven’s coat is shining black,Or, rather, raven grey;The Camel’s hunch is on his back,The Owl abhors the day.
Oh, yes, the Peacock is more proud
Because his tail has eyes;
The Lion roars so very loud,
He’d fill you with surprise.
The Raven’s coat is shining black,
Or, rather, raven grey;
The Camel’s hunch is on his back,
The Owl abhors the day.
Pelican
The Pelican she loves her young,The Stork its parent loves;The Woodcock’s bill is very long,And innocent are Doves.The little Wren is very small,The Humming-bird is less;The Lady-bird is least of all,And beautiful in dress.
The Pelican she loves her young,
The Stork its parent loves;
The Woodcock’s bill is very long,
And innocent are Doves.
The little Wren is very small,
The Humming-bird is less;
The Lady-bird is least of all,
And beautiful in dress.
Turtle
The Turtle—citizens’ delight!—Doth wear a coat of mail;The Glow-worm shines the darkest nightWith lantern in its tail.The streakèd Tiger’s fond of blood,The Pigeon feeds on peas;The Duck will gobble in the mud,The Mice will eat your cheese.
The Turtle—citizens’ delight!—
Doth wear a coat of mail;
The Glow-worm shines the darkest night
With lantern in its tail.
The streakèd Tiger’s fond of blood,
The Pigeon feeds on peas;
The Duck will gobble in the mud,
The Mice will eat your cheese.
Boar
In Germany they hunt the Boar,The Bee brings honey home;The Ant lays up a winter store,The Bear loves honey-comb.The Hen guards well her little chicks,The Cow, her hoof is slit;The Beaver builds with mud and sticks,The Lapwing cries “Pee-wit!”
In Germany they hunt the Boar,
The Bee brings honey home;
The Ant lays up a winter store,
The Bear loves honey-comb.
The Hen guards well her little chicks,
The Cow, her hoof is slit;
The Beaver builds with mud and sticks,
The Lapwing cries “Pee-wit!”
The child that does not these things knowMight well be called a dunce;But you in knowledge quick must grow,For youth can come but once.
The child that does not these things know
Might well be called a dunce;
But you in knowledge quick must grow,
For youth can come but once.
Hunting scene
Mr. Lovesport has left his native land in search of larger game, and more adventurous and dangerous sport than he can find in England. One day in southern Africa he has cautiously approached a herd of antelopes, and is just within the distance for a shot, when he observes a sudden commotion among them, some bounding one way, some another, as if in terror. Looking round to discover the cause, he finds himself face to face with an enormous lion. The lion pauses to consider whether he will have an antelope for dinner or Mr. Lovesport. Our intrepid hunter takes advantage of the pause to shoot him through the heart.
Riding a quagga
This is the way Mr. Lovesport once rode a Quagga. It is a kind of zebra, or wild ass, and is considered untameable. A friend of Mr. Lovesport—a colonist in southern Africa—had caught one, and had tried in vain to tame it. Our hunter offered to ride it, if they could put on saddle and bridle. This was at length accomplished: he mounted, and the quagga galloped away, away till he reached a herd of his own species, who all came round, curious to know what thing he had upon his back. Our hero became anxious to return, and, taking off his jacket, contrived to wrap it over the eyes of the beast; then once getting its head in the right direction, spurred it on, till it stopped exhausted at his friend’s door.
Elephant escaping
In one of his hunting expeditions, Mr. Lovesport finds an elephant asleep under some trees. He has only one attendant with him, a negro, named Jumbo; and this man takes it into his head that he will tie the elephant’s leg to a tree with some strong rope he has, while it sleeps: and see what it will do when it wakes up. He had just finished his work when the huge creature awoke. In a moment the rope was snapped, but unluckily Jumbo was entangled in it, and remained for a moment attached to the elephant’s leg, which he had to cling to that it might not step on him. In this way he was carried some distance, though without being seriously hurt. Our hunter did not fire at the elephant, lest, becoming furious, it might crush the little creature clinging to it.
Elephant and rhinoceros
This is a scene where our hunter was a looker-on, not an actor. He was on one of his expeditions with Jumbo, when they heard the trumpeting sound made by an elephant when angry. Looking through the trees, they saw a huge creature stamping with his feet, and tearing up the grass with his trunk. Presently a rhinoceros approached, as if the two had appointed to meet and fight upon that spot. The battle did not last long. The poor elephant could not guard the under part of its body from its enemy’s horn; and it fled away, perhaps mortally wounded, leaving a stream of blood upon its path. This is the last scene for to-day of Mr. Lovesport’s adventures, but perhaps he will send some more another time.
Pets
L
Little kid is bleating, bleating,“Pray, give me some cake;”Little baby’s crying, crying,“Mine it mustn’t take.”
Little kid is bleating, bleating,
“Pray, give me some cake;”
Little baby’s crying, crying,
“Mine it mustn’t take.”
Goosey-gander, waddling, waddling,Wants to have some too;Cock-a-doodle, strutting, strutting,Crows out, “How d’ye do?”
Goosey-gander, waddling, waddling,
Wants to have some too;
Cock-a-doodle, strutting, strutting,
Crows out, “How d’ye do?”
Henny-penny’s pecking, peckingUp the husks and grain;Mother’s petting, spoiling, spoilingEveryone, ’tis plain.
Henny-penny’s pecking, pecking
Up the husks and grain;
Mother’s petting, spoiling, spoiling
Everyone, ’tis plain.
Summer air is blowing, blowingFragrance all around.See the blossoms, falling, fallingSoftly to the ground.
Summer air is blowing, blowing
Fragrance all around.
See the blossoms, falling, falling
Softly to the ground.
All the world is shining, shiningRadiant with the sun.Summer glory shedding, sheddingLight on every one.
All the world is shining, shining
Radiant with the sun.
Summer glory shedding, shedding
Light on every one.
Hares
H
The picture on the opposite page shows us a family of hares enjoying themselves in a field of cabbages. How pretty, and yet how queer-looking they are! I think that one standing up in the middle, with his ears so straight up, must be Mr. Hare, while the others are Mrs. Hare and the children. They are eating away as fast as they can, while the good papa looks on, and listens with those long ears of his for the sound of any approaching footsteps. If he hears any noise of a kind which he considers alarming, he will give notice to his wife and little ones; then they will all scurry off so fast that they will soon be miles away from the spot where they have been frightened.
A hare never walks or trots, because the hind legs are so much longer than the front ones, but it goes along in a succession of bounds. Hares can take great leaps, too, in height as well as in distance: they have been known, when pursued, to jump over very high hedges, and even walls of moderate size. One curious quality in a hare is that it never becomes fat, however rich the pasture may be on which it feeds; consequently it can go very long distances without fatigue.
Though rabbits are easily domesticated, it is very unusual to see a really tame hare; and you will be surprised to hear that the only one I ever met with was in a house in London. I went one day to call upon a gentleman—an artist—who was very fond of animals: indeed, among other things, he often painted animals. I found him in his studio, working away at his picture, with three dogs and a cat and her kittens all in the room with him. I sat for some time talking and admiring his picture, when presently I heard an odd sort of knocking or rubbing at the door.
“I hear some one at the door,” said I, after the noise had been going on for some time, thinking my friend did not hear it.
“Oh, that’s only stupid old Tommy; he is such a bother; he never seems able to settle anywhere now he’s so old.”
“Who is he?” I asked, thinking he was speaking of some stupid old person.
“Would you like to see him?” said the artist; “he is not particularly handsome now, and he is dreadfully impudent.”
Walking to the door he opened it, and who should come hopping and leaping into the room but a gigantic hare. He hopped past me first, and then turning round, came quite close, and stood up on his hind legs. He made one long ear stick forward and the other backward, looking more comical than I can tell you; and he twisted his curious, sensitive, moveable nose round and round, while he stared at me with his immense prominent eyes till I thought they were going to drop out.
“That isn’t manners, Tommy,” said my friend; “it’s very rude to stare so: lie down.” Whereupon good obedient Tommy crouched down, with his nose between his two front paws; laid his ears back flat on his neck, and did his best, I am sure, not to stare—but that he could not help, by reason of the peculiar nature of his eyes.
I caressed him, and found him as tame and gentle as a little dog. Indeed my friend had had him from the time he was a very tiny creature.
Hare
Puzzle images
Now here is a puzzle-page for you. Of these six objects that you see, two begin with the letter B; one begins with G; one with H, and two with P. Can you tell what they all are?
Fox and goat
A
A Fox once fell into a deep well, and could not get out again. A Goat, wishing to drink, came to the well, and seeing the Fox, asked him if the water was good. The Fox did not say he had fallen into the well, but pretended he stayed in the well from choice; and saying the water was the best he had ever tasted, begged the Goat to jump down and try it. TheGoat jumped down, and drank; and then sly Fox told him that they were imprisoned in the well. “But,” said he, “we may still get out if you will place your fore-feet upon the wall; I will then run up your back and escape, and help you out afterwards.” The Goat did as the Fox asked, and Mr. Fox, running up his back, soon got out of the well, and then ran off. The Goat called after him, when the Fox, turning round, cried out these words:—“You foolish old fellow! If you had as many brains in your head as you have hairs in your beard you would have looked before you leaped.”
Flowers
Angels
M
Mother, what are angels made of?Have they feet and hands like ours?Are they things to be afraid of?Do they hide among the flowers?
Mother, what are angels made of?
Have they feet and hands like ours?
Are they things to be afraid of?
Do they hide among the flowers?
Mary says they are not creaturesMade of flesh, and bones, and blood,Though they have the sweetest features,And are glad when we are good.
Mary says they are not creatures
Made of flesh, and bones, and blood,
Though they have the sweetest features,
And are glad when we are good.
Fanny thinks they’re always rovingHere and there on wings of light;Gentle things, all kind and loving,Guarding us by day and night;
Fanny thinks they’re always roving
Here and there on wings of light;
Gentle things, all kind and loving,
Guarding us by day and night;
Made by God to keep from dangerLittle ones at school or play;Just like those that watched the mangerWhere the infant Jesus lay.
Made by God to keep from danger
Little ones at school or play;
Just like those that watched the manger
Where the infant Jesus lay.
Tell me, mother—dearest mother!Oh, I dosowant to know.Susan says that “little brotherIs an angel.” Is it so?
Tell me, mother—dearest mother!
Oh, I dosowant to know.
Susan says that “little brother
Is an angel.” Is it so?
Darling, this is all that’s told usIn the word of Him above,That those beings who behold us,In their unseen arms enfold us,Creatures are of Light and Love.
Darling, this is all that’s told us
In the word of Him above,
That those beings who behold us,
In their unseen arms enfold us,
Creatures are of Light and Love.
Angels
Healing blind men
T
The next miracle that I shall tell you about, my dear children, is one which is represented in the picture above; it is our Saviour giving sight to two blind men.
When He left the house of Jairus, the ruler, whose daughter He had raised from the dead, the scripture tells us that two blind men followed Him. As they followed, they kept crying out, “Thou son of David, have mercy upon us!” They meant by this entreaty toimplore Christ to have pity upon their darkness and misery; to consider how helpless and useless they were; and, as He had just restored to life a child already dead, to have mercy upon them, and give them back their sight.
It is evident that these men thoroughly believed our Saviour to be the true Messiah, whose coming had been foretold by the prophets; for one of the signs by which the true Messiah was to be known, according to the prophecies, was His giving sight to the blind.
Our Saviour at first, as though to try the faith of these two poor men, appeared not to regard them. But they followed Him into the house where He was going, groping their way as they best could, and repeated their prayer, “Oh, son of David, have mercy on us!” Then Jesus, as St. Matthew tells, said unto them, “Believe ye that I am able to do this?” and they replied, “Yea, Lord.” Then He touched their eyes, saying, “According to your faith be it done unto you.” And their eyes were opened.
We may observe that Christ appeared to make faith a condition upon which the success of the miracle was to depend, and it is evident that these poor men had perfect faith. What unspeakable joy and gratitude they must have felt on finding their dark night suddenly changed into bright day. Without pain, without any operation, simply by the touch of Christ upon their sightless eyes, had one of the greatest of earthly blessings been given to these two men.
There is another miracle I shall have time to tell you about to-day, my children, which was performed soon after the last. It consisted in the feeding of a multitude of people—five thousand—upon five barley loaves and two small fishes. It took place on the shore of the sea of Galilee.
A great multitude of people had followed our Saviour to listen to His teaching, and He had led them some distance away from any town. He preached to them a long time, and was still continuing His instructions when theshades of evening began to gather round. Then the disciples reminded Him that the day was declining, one of them saying, “This is a desert place, and now the time is far passed: send them away that they may go into the country round about and buy themselves bread, for they have nothing to eat.”
But our Saviour was too compassionate to send the people away hungry, and He intended Himself to give them food. He said to His disciples, “How many loaves have ye? go and see.” And when they knew, they said, “Five loaves and two fishes.” Christ then commanded them to make all the people sit down upon the grass; He took the five loaves and the two fishes, and brake the loaves, and gave the pieces to His disciples to give among the people: He also divided the two fishes, and gave them in the same way. Then the multitude, as the Bible tells us, ate and were filled: and, what is more, the disciples afterwards gathered up several basketsful of the fragments that were left.
Thus, by our Lord’s power, those five loaves and two fishes were made sufficient to feed and satisfy that great multitude of five thousand people.