The Boys' And Girls' Library Part 24

Whether this lesson cured the little boy of _loitering_ on his way, I cannot tell. I hope and think it must have done so, but this I know, St.

Bernard became more than ever a favourite,--more than ever loved and valued by the whole neighbourhood, and he continued showing his wonderful instinct and bravery, in many ways.

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TO MY BOY TOM,

ON GIVING HIM HIS FIRST SPELLING-BOOK.

Poor Tom, they're heathen Greek to you-- Those curiously-formed letters; But you must learn them all, my boy, And break the dunce's fetters.

Ay, there they stand, from A to Z, Like prophets sent on mission, To point the way in Wisdom's path With accurate precision.

Or rather, they are like old nurse, Aiding the first gradation, The Alpha-_Bet_ and leading-strings To better education.

And having totter'd, step by step, Till stronger grown in knowledge, Why, then, my boy, you'll run alone Through this, your infant's college.

Ay, puzzle on--that's A, this B; Ne'er mind a few erratics: The big round O, and upright I, Will lead to mathematics.

Your little book is just like life In its progressive stages; You'll find the spelling harder grow, As you turn o'er the pages.

Two letters--three--and then comes four Then syllables united, Till six or seven in columns stand, To render you affrighted.

But, having conn'd your lesson o'er, With true p.r.o.nunciation, The task's performed, and you will gain A parent's approbation.

Just so in life our troubles rise, Getting from rough to rougher, For man is like the grammar verbs, _To be, or do, or suffer_.

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SECOND STORY OF THE SEA.

The tea-table was cleared away, the shutters were closed, a bright wood fire blazed on the hearth, and Captain Albert, with his family, were seated round it.

"Now, father," said Edward, "tell us another story of the sea, if you please. How did you get your s.h.i.+p out of the ice?"

"It was brought out without much exertion of mine," said his father. "If you had been there, my son, you would have felt that all the power of man could have done little to relieve us. The ice gathered around us thicker and closer, the wind died away, and it was a dead, freezing calm. The s.h.i.+p did not move an inch, and the thoughts of my mind troubled me by continually bringing up an account I had read in my youth, of a vessel which had been caught in the ice near the south pole and all the crew frozen, where they stood on duty--

"To the cordage glued the sailor, And the steersman to the helm!

"I began to feel as if we had little prospect of escaping a similar fate, and looked about to see what part of the s.h.i.+p could be spared for fuel, in case of necessity. I also examined the provisions and water, and calculated how long they would last. My faithful crew were sensible of the danger we were in, but uttered no complaint. The whales appeared to understand our helpless condition, and came around us, as if in mockery, das.h.i.+ng about the ice with their powerful flooks, and exulting as it were, in showing us how much more they could do for themselves than we could. One of them even ventured to rub his monstrous sides against our s.h.i.+p.

"In this melancholy situation, Robert (spoken of in our first story) was a valuable addition to our s.h.i.+p's company. He was a young man of bright natural talents, and possessed a good share of wit and power of imitation. Besides which, he had received an education much superior to that of sailors generally. He was a fine singer, and had a great share of good songs, so that he became the life of the whole s.h.i.+p. We had very little to do, and the men were very fond of sitting down on the berth-deck, among the hammocks, with a lantern in the centre, to hear Robert give an account of himself, and relate the wonderful adventures he had met with.

"After we had been some time in the helpless situation I have described, one morning, about day-break, I was awakened from a troubled sleep by the sound of a rus.h.i.+ng wind, and rus.h.i.+ng up, I went on deck. A violent rain was falling, and the wind was rising at the same time, which is a very uncommon circ.u.mstance. It blew in a direction to favour our escape; and think, my dear ones, what was my joy and thankfulness, when I saw the ice dividing before us, and leaving a broad, clear path, as far as the eye could reach. The rain loosened the ice from the sails, and it fell on the deck in thin sheets; the sails filled, and we began to move rapidly toward home. Did I not tell you right, when I said Divine Providence helped us out without much aid from us?

"We had prepared to tow the schooner (to which Robert belonged) behind us, but considering that she would check the speed of our s.h.i.+p, and feeling the necessity of making all possible haste to escape from the regions of ice, I put three of our most capable hands into her, with Robert, and directed them to follow my s.h.i.+p as near as they could. When we were in the open sea, it was a pleasure to look back and see the little craft clipping along through the waves, following on like a greyhound in the chase, leaving ice and icebergs far behind.

"Our voyage home was prosperous and pleasant. The remembrance of dangers and sufferings, made every blessing more thankfully acceptable, and I hope we all returned better and wiser men."

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THE CHILD AT PRAYER.

As the Lady of Lindorf entered the chapel, she beheld a little girl, of about eight years old, alone, and dressed entirely in black, kneeling upon the steps of the altar. The child prayed so fervently, that she paid no attention to what was pa.s.sing by her. Tears were streaming down her blooming cheeks, and her beautiful and innocent countenance had an expression of melancholy resignation and pious fervor beyond description.

The lady felt the sincerest pity and greatest good-will towards the praying child. She would not disturb her in her devotions; and only when the little girl arose did the lady approach her:--"You are very sorrowful, dear child," she said softly; "why do you thus cry?"

"Alas!" answered the child, and tears flowed afresh down her cheeks; "a year ago this very day I lost my father, and this day last week they buried my mother."

"And for what have you prayed to G.o.d?" asked the lady.

"That he would take pity upon me," answered the child; "I have no refuge but Him. True, I am still with the people with whom my parents lodged, but I cannot stay there; the master has told me again that I must go to-morrow. I have a few relatives in the town, and wish very much that one or the other would take charge of me. The good priest, also, who often visited my mother in her illness, and showed her a deal of kindness, told them plainly that it was their duty to do so, but they cannot agree among themselves which of them is to take the care of bringing me up: nor can I complain, for they have many children, and nothing but what they earn by their daily labour."

"Poor child! it is no wonder that you are sorrowful."

"I came here very sorrowful," replied the child; "but G.o.d has suddenly removed all grief from my heart. I now feel comforted. I have no further anxiety than to live ever after His will, so that He may take pleasure in me."

The words of that innocent child, and the sincerity that appeared through her tearful eyes, went to the heart of the n.o.ble lady.

She looked at her with the tenderness of a mother, and said "I think that G.o.d has heard your prayer, dear little one; keep to your resolution--remain ever pious and good, and be comforted, and you will find help. Come with me."

The good child looked at the lady with astonishment:--"But where?" asked she. "I must not; I must go home."

"I know the good priest who you said had been so kind to your mother,"

said the lady. "We will go to him, and I will arrange with him how to help you."

Saying this, she took the child by the hand, who went joyfully with her.

The excellent curate, a man rather advanced in years, and of a venerable aspect, rose from his writing-table on the approach of the lady. She told him how she had just become acquainted with the child; and then desired the little one to leave her with the curate, and amuse herself in the garden awhile, as she wished to speak to him privately.

"My dear sir," said she, "I have a great desire to take this child, and supply to her the place of a mother. My own children all died at a tender age, and my heart tells me that I can love this little one.

Still, I wished to know whether you, who knew the parents well, would advise me to do so. What do you say to it? I wish to mark my short course on earth by some benevolent action. Do you think that the benefits I mean to bestow on that child will be well conferred?"

The good man lifted his eyes to heaven, and tears of joy were glistening in them, as, folding his hands, he said, "The holy providence of G.o.d be ever praised! You could not, lady, do a greater act of mercy; neither could you easily find a more pious, well-behaved, and intelligent child, than the little Sophy. Both her parents were honest people, and true Christians. They begun to give this, their only one, a good education, but, alas! they did not live to finish it. I shall never forget with what grief the dying mother looked upon this dearly beloved child, who was sobbing upon her death-bed; with what confidence, nevertheless, she looked towards heaven, and said; 'Thou Father in heaven wilt also be a father on earth, and wilt give my daughter another mother: I know this, and die comforted.' The words of the good parent are now come to pa.s.s, and it is obvious that the Divine Providence has selected you, gracious and worthy lady, to be this child's second mother: for this you were called to this town--for this, G.o.d put it in your mind to visit His temple before your departure. It is evidently his work; let his holy providence be gratefully acknowledged!"

The worthy curate now called in the poor orphan, and said, "See, Sophy, this kind and devout lady wishes to be thy mother:--this is a great happiness that G.o.d bestows upon thee. Wilt thou go with her, and be to her a good daughter?"

"Yes," answered Sophy gladly, and tears of joy prevented her saying more. She thanked her benefactress with her looks, and kissed her hand in silence.