Story Lessons on Character-Building (Morals) and Manners Part 12

Do not be Slow and Lazy, or you will be always "Too Late".

XXVI. ALL WORK HONOURABLE.

62. The Chimney-sweep.

"Mother," said little Frank, "I saw a man walking along the street to-day with a bundle of brushes in his hand, and such a black face. I was careful not to touch him as I pa.s.sed, he looked so dirty--quite a 'blackamoor'"!

"Ah!" said his mother, "that was a chimney-sweep; he cannot =help= being dirty, and my little boy ought to feel very kindly to him, for we should be badly off without such men."

Not many days afterwards there was a storm. How the wind blew and roared! All through the night it rattled the windows and whistled in the chimney. Frank's mother went downstairs early in the morning to make a fire, but as soon as she lighted it, puff! the smoke came down the chimney, and filled the room, and she was obliged to let the fire go out.

Down came the children for breakfast, and Frank cried: "Is the fire not lighted, mother? I am so cold; and oh! the house =is= smoky."

"I have tried to light a fire," said his mother, "but the smoke blows down the chimney. I think it needs sweeping; I shall have to give you milk for breakfast; there is no nice, hot coffee for you, because the fire will not burn."

After breakfast Frank's brother went to fetch the chimney-sweep, who soon came, and with his long brushes brought down all the soot, which he carried away in a bag. Then the fire burned merrily, making the room look quite bright and cheerful, and Frank said: "Thank you, Mr.

Chimney-sweep, for your good work. I will never call you 'blackamoor'

again; and when I meet you in the street, I will not think you are too dirty to speak to."

Frank had learnt two lessons:--

(Blackboard)

1. Some Work makes Men Black.

2. We must be kind to these Men, for we Need their Work.

XXVII. BAD COMPANIONS.

63. Playing with Pitch.

You have seen the men at work mending the roads, and you know how sometimes they spread little stones all over the road, and then roll them flat with a steam-roller. But in some places the roads are laid with stones as large as bricks, and when these have all been placed together, the men take a large can with a spout, full of hot pitch, and pour it into the s.p.a.ces between the stones to fasten them together.

A little boy, named Martin, was watching the men do this one day, and he said to himself, "I should like a piece of that black stuff; it has cooled now, and looks like a black piece of dough; I could make all sorts of shapes with it, and I do not believe it would soil my hands".

So he picked up a length that lay near him, rolled it into a ball, and put it in his pocket. Some of the tar stuck to his hands, and when he washed them it did not come off, but it was now school time, and away he went. When he came out of school, he put his hand in his pocket to get the tar, and oh, what a sticky mess it was! His pocket was all over tar, so was his hand, and when he reached home, his mother set to work to get it off, and it took her a long, long time.

Martin was mistaken in thinking he could play with the pitch and not get soiled.

64. Stealing Strawberries.

When Martin grew older he had some playmates who were not very good, and his mother said, "Martin, I wish you would not play with those boys; I fear they will get you into trouble".

"Oh! no, mother," replied Martin, "if they =wanted= me to do anything wrong I would not; I need not learn their bad ways if I =do= play with them." But his mother shook her head, for she knew better.

Some time afterwards the boys had a half-holiday, and Martin went with his friends into the country. Presently they came to a large garden, with a high wall round it, and the boys began to climb the wall.

"Where are you going?" asked Martin.

"Oh!" said one of the boys, laughing, "a friend of ours owns this garden, and we are going to help him gather strawberries."

There was a large bed of strawberries on the other side of the wall, and as soon as the boys were over, they began to pick and eat.

What the boy had told Martin was quite untrue--they were =stealing= the strawberries; but before very long the gardener spied them, and with one or two other men came upon them so quietly, that they had no time to get away, and every boy was made prisoner. The gardener locked them up in the tool-house until the owner came, and he took their names and addresses, and said they should be brought before the magistrates, as it was not the first time they had stolen his fruit. Of course Martin had not been with them the other times, but he was caught with them now, and can you imagine how dreadfully ashamed he felt, and how his cheeks burned when he thought of his dear mother, and the trouble it would be to her. When he reached home, he told his mother all that had happened, and begged her forgiveness. His mother was greatly distressed, and said: "You remember playing with the pitch, Martin, when you were a very little boy--you thought you could handle it, and still keep clean, but you could not; so neither can you have bad companions without being mixed up in wrong-doing".

(Blackboard.)

To mix with Bad Company is like Playing with Pitch.

XXVIII. ON FORGETTING.

65. Maggie's Birthday Present.

It was Maggie's birthday, and her father brought her as a present something that she had been wis.h.i.+ng for a very long time. It was a beautiful yellow canary, and its little house was the prettiest cage imaginable, for it was made of bra.s.s wire, which was so bright that you could almost think it was gold. Of course Maggie was delighted. "It is just what I have been wis.h.i.+ng for," said she; "I shall feed the canary myself, and give it fresh water every day; it is the prettiest bird I ever saw."

For some weeks Maggie remembered her little pet each day, and attended to all its wants, but there came a day when there was to be a picnic for all the school children, and Maggie was so excited and glad about the picnic that she forgot all about feeding the bird.

Then next day there was hay-making, and she was in the field all day, and again forgot the poor bird.

This went on for a few days, and when at last she =did= remember, and went to the cage, the bird was dead.

Maggie was full of grief, and cried until her head ached, but she could not undo the results of her forgetting.

Some people think it is a =little= fault to forget, but that cannot be, for we know well that "forgetting" often causes pain and suffering to others.

(Blackboard.)

Forgetting often causes Pain.

66. The Promised Drive.

Daniel was a lame little boy. He could not walk at all, nor play about with the other children, so he was very puny and pale. His mother used to put his little chair near the door of the cottage where they lived, so that he could watch the people pa.s.s, and one day, as he sat there, a lady came by with a well-dressed little boy, and when she saw the pale-faced child she stopped and spoke to him, and then Daniel's mother came to the door, and invited her to step inside the cottage.

The lady's little boy was called Emil, and he stood on the doorstep talking to Daniel, while the two mothers spoke together within the cottage. Emil, who was a kind-hearted little fellow, felt very sorry for the lame child, and when he found that Daniel was never able to go any farther than the street where he lived, Emil said: "I will ask my father to bring his carriage round and take you for a drive; I am sure he will, and then you can see the green fields and trees, and hear the birds sing".

Daniel's little face flushed with pleasure, and he said; "Oh that would be lovely!"