Golden Moments Part 21

A SPARROW STORY.

I and my little sisters are very fond of the sparrows who come to our garden to eat the crumbs that we throw out for them. We find our cat also likes them, but in a different way. We have been able to rescue several little ones from it, but have never been able to rear them, as they have generally died two or three days after. However, a little while ago we saved one poor little bird from p.u.s.s.y, and placed it in a cage and fed it, as it was too young to look after itself. The cage was placed in my bedroom, with the window open, and we suppose the chirrup of the little prisoner was heard by its parents, and we were pleased to see one of them fly into the room and carry it food. As they seemed so anxious, and we thought they knew better than we how to feed it, we placed the little thing on the window sill, watching near it to prevent it meeting with any accident, as it was too young to fly more than a few yards by itself. It had scarcely been there a few seconds before its mother flew down to it and chattered, as we thought scolding it, but we suppose she was only giving it directions, for the young one laid hold of the mother's tail with its little beak, and, with that a.s.sistance, was able to fly away.

We watched until it was out of sight, and were very glad to think that the parents had recovered their little one, about which they had shown such anxiety.

THE SHOWMAN'S DOG.

"Poor little chap!" the showman said, "Your day at last is done, No more you'll fly at Punch's head, Or cause the Clown to run, Poor little chap! you're weak, too weak To join the Peepshow fun!"

"Out of the road I picked you up, 'Tis years and years ago, Your leg was badly injured, pup, Run over as you know.

I bound the limb, and took you home, And soon you join'd the Show."

"Many a mile we've tramped, old dog, And many a place we've seen, And you where'er our feet might jog, Have faithful ever been.

And rarely a rough or angry word Has come our lives between."

"Toby I wish that you could speak, One word in answer say, No! e'en to bark you are too weak, Or you would still obey.

I know not what the show will do When you have pa.s.sed away!"

Lovingly then poor Toby crept Towards his master's side And licked his hand--the Showman wept!

For less things men have cried!

And there full grateful to the last His old companion died.

E. Oxenford.

TIDYING.

The children had played all through the long afternoon, and the room was turned topsy-turvy.

Toys were strewn all over the floor; furniture was pulled out of place; and the legs of the chairs were entangled with a long kite-tail that they had begun to make.

Presently Raymond said with a start, "Didn't you hear mother say, 'Put the room tidy'?"

"No," answered Ralph; "n.o.body spoke; it was only because you saw what a state the room was in that you thought you heard her; and it _is_ very untidy; we had better put it straight."

"Yes, let us put it straight," said Raymond, "for I know I did hear mother tell us to."

So the two set to work and sorted the toys, and put them away in the cupboard; then they began to try to disentangle the twine of the kite-tail that was twisted round the chairs.

"Oh, dear! this is tiresome!" cried Raymond, as he bent his sunny head over the task.

"It does hurt my fingers!" said Ralph, knitting his dark brows.

Presently Raymond looked up with a beaming face.

"I know mother is looking at us all the time," he said; "I can feel she is smiling!"

Ralph looked round the room. "She is not here," he answered, "it is only the sunlight through the window."

"I know I can't see her," said Raymond again, "but I can feel she is smiling."

Then they were silent, and went on with their work.

"It is bedtime, little boys," said mother, coming in.

"But we have not finished," they cried together.

"Mother and nurse will do the rest," said mother. "You've both done very well."

"Mother, weren't you watching us all the time?" asked Raymond eagerly.

"Yes," she answered, smiling; "I was in the garden, and could see through the window my two little sons; Raymond was quick to obey when he heard my voice, and Ralph did what he knew I should wish, though he did not know I was able to see him."

And Mother put her arms round the children, and the sunny head and the dark head nestled softly on her bosom, and the eyelids drooped, for the day had been long and the sun had gone down.

"But I wish I had known you were there," murmured Ralph.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "NURSERY TENNIS."]

CHARLIE THE CHATTERBOX.

"Do be quiet, Charlie!" "Leave off talking!" "Silence, sir!" These words were addressed to Charlie in vain, whether at home or school. He talked at meals, at cla.s.s, in church; his little tongue was always at work, and yet it never seemed weary. Even if his mother had a headache, Charlie rattled on; if his father wanted to read or write quietly he had to go apart from Charlie, for there was no peace in the presence of the chatterbox. Of course he was a dunce, for how could he chatter and learn as well? And you may be sure he made plenty of mischief, for tongues that are always on the move do not keep to the exact truth sometimes when repeating what the ears have heard.

One day Grandfather said, "I really must teach that little tongue a lesson. If you can be silent for half an hour, Charlie, I will give you half-a-dollar." "Half-a-dollar! I'll earn it, grandfather." Charlie watched the clock and thought of tops and b.a.l.l.s and kites and sweets and apples, and all the wonderful things half-a-dollar would buy; he had to keep silence till the clock had struck twelve, and just as the hand approached the hour he grew so excited with his success that he cried out, "There, I've done it! Please give me the money, grandfather." But Charlie never got that half-dollar, and I do not think such a chatterbox _deserved_ it. You have two ears and one tongue, children; listen quietly, pay attention, but do not always make your voice to be heard, else other people may grow just a little tired of the sound.

SILVIO AND FRANCESCO.

On the side of one of the vine-clad hills of Italy dwelt a poor man with a large family. Though he was a hard-working man, he could only earn enough to poorly support his children, and to give them an education was beyond his power. He was an intelligent man, and though he had grown up without even learning to read, he wanted his children to have the advantages of schools and books, and he decided to seek for them a home in America. He saved all the money he could from his meagre earnings to pay the expense of the voyage. It was a hard struggle, and there were many days of stern self-denial and stringent economy ere the required amount could be obtained. When one has an earnest purpose, and bends his energies to accomplish it, he is quite sure of success. It was thus with this Italian family. Both father and mother were united in carrying out one fixed purpose,--to give their four children the advantages of a land of free schools,--and though their struggles were hard, yet they were working for their loved ones, and love lightens heavy burdens. There always comes pleasure from what is done for the benefit of others.

When all was ready they embarked from Genoa one evening, as the sunset sent a radiant glow over mountain and valley.

Silvio and Francesco were the youngest of the four children. The two eldest boys, like their parents, were sad at leaving their youthful companions, and sat in the stern of the s.h.i.+p and watched the receding hills till the rosy light faded, and darkness shut out from view their native land forever.

Silvio was nine years old, and Francesco two years younger. They did not realize the journey which was before them, nor did they regret at leaving. They were charmed with the novelty of the scenes around them.

They watched the sailors in their duties about the s.h.i.+p, and listened to the captain's stern orders. The harbor was gay with the lights of the many crafts, large and small, which were gliding about over the placid surface of the gulf. So quiet were the waters that one would never dream that they could ever be ruffled, or cause the voyager discomfort. As their s.h.i.+p glided out of the placid Gulf of Genoa into the Mediterranean Sea all on board were antic.i.p.ating a quick and prosperous voyage, and a safe landing on the bright sh.o.r.es of America.