Olive Leaves Part 5

Since so many interesting properties are discovered in the inferior creation, where, perhaps, we least expected them, it is well to search for such traits of character as deserve our regard, and consider them as humble friends, that we may better do our duty to them, and please Him who has entrusted them to our protection.

b.u.t.terfly in a School-Room.

Gay inmate of our studious room.

Adorn'd with nature's brightest dyes, Whose gadding wing, and tissued plume, Allure so many wandering eyes.

The breath of eve is gathering bleak, And thou dost shrink beneath its power, And faint, or famish'd, seem'st to seek The essence from yon withering flower

Haste to thine own secluded cell, And s.h.i.+eld thee from the chilling blast, And let the honied casket well Supply a fresh and free repast.

Hast thou no home? Didst thou provide No shelter from autumnal rain?

Hast thou no cheering board supplied From all the treasures of the plain?

What wilt thou do 'neath wintry skies?

Behold! the charms of summer fade, Thy friend, the labouring bee, was wise Ere on their stalks the plants decay'd,

Frail insect! s.h.i.+vering 'mid the storm, Thy season of delight is past, And soon that gaudy, graceful form, Shall stiffen on the whelming blast.

Companions dear! whose frequent glance Marks yon fair creature's brilliant hue, Methinks, its wing in frolic dance, Doth speak in wisdom's lore to you:

Seek not to flutter, and to flaunt, While a few years their courses roll, But heed approaching winter's want, And store the sweetness of the soul.

A Brave Boy.

There are ways in which boys may show true courage, without being forward and bold in contention. It often requires more to avoid it. To show forbearance when they are provoked, or to tell the whole truth when they have committed faults, are proofs of more lofty and high principle than to imitate the fighting animals, and repel force by force, or the fox-like ones, and practise cunning. To live at peace, may need more firmness than to quarrel; because one is to control our pa.s.sions, and the other to indulge them.

The bravest boy is he who rules himself, and does his duty without boasting. I have known some beautiful instances of this cla.s.s of virtues, and will mention one that is now in my mind.

A widow, who was the mother of several children, resided in a pleasant part of New England. She faithfully nurtured and instructed them, and one of her precepts was, that when they had any difficult duty to perform, they should ask strength from above. Her youngest was a boy of eight years old, active and intelligent. He was not only obedient to her, but attentive to his studies, and beloved by his instructors.

One fine summer afternoon, when there was no school, he was walking on the banks of a river that beautified the scenery of his native place. He admired the silver stream as it sparkled in the sunbeams, and the rich verdure that clothed its banks. Suddenly, a large boy plunged in, as if for the purpose of bathing, though he did not divest himself of any part of his clothing. Soon, he struggled in distress, as if ready to sink.

Ralph Edward, the son of the widow, had been taught to swim. Throwing off his boots and his little coat, he hastened to the relief of the drowning stranger. He found him nearly senseless, and though much larger than himself, and nearly twice his age, succeeded by great exertions in bringing him to the sh.o.r.e. There, he supported him against a bank, until he had thrown from his mouth a quant.i.ty of water, and was able to thank his benefactor. He confessed that he was ignorant of the art of swimming, but had a great desire to learn, and had no idea that the river was so deep and swift. When he was able to proceed on his way, Ralph Edward returned home. His head was giddy, and his breast throbbed with the efforts he had made He went to his little chamber, and throwing himself upon the bed, wept bitterly. His mother heard him moaning, and inquired the cause of his grief. He told her he could not forget the convulsed features of a half-drowned boy, and the pain he seemed to feel when he gasped for breath upon the bank. Then, in compliance with her request, he related all the circ.u.mstances.

"My son, do you know that you have been in great danger? Have you never heard that the grasp of drowning persons is fatal?"

"Oh, yes. But mother, what could I do? Should I stand still, and see him die? Had I waited for other help, he must have sunk to rise no more."

"Was he your friend?"

"I do not even know his name. I think he is a servant in some family not far off. I have seen him driving a cow to pasture, but never spoke to him until to-day."

"How were you able to swim, and support a boy so much larger than yourself?"

"Mother, I cannot say. I only know that I remember what you told us to do when we had any difficult duty to perform, and I begged for strength of our Father who is in Heaven."

The mother comforted her child, and soothed his agitated nerves, and gave him her blessing. After that he slept sweetly and awoke refreshed.

Trembling at the risk he had run, she still was thankful for the spirit that had moved him to do good to a stranger, and the piety that had made him mindful of the great Giver of strength and Hearer of prayer.

She reflected with grat.i.tude also, upon his humility. He did not say boastfully, "I have rescued a boy from the river, when he was ready to sink. He was larger than I, but I did it all alone. He is almost twice as old too, and does not even know how to keep himself up in the water, while I can swim as well and boldly as a man."

No. He came home without alluding to the occurrence, as if it were a matter of course, to help those who were in need. He complained not of fatigue, though every nerve was strained and tremulous. He went silently to his own secluded room, and shed tears of pity at the remembrance of the struggles of the sufferer. The true greatness that prompted this forgetfulness of self, was as remarkable as the courage that s.n.a.t.c.hed a fellow-creature from danger.

May Morning.

May is here, with skies of blue, Tuneful birds of varied hue, Blossoms bright on plant and tree: Ye, who love her smile of glee, Leave the city's thronging streets, Meet her in her green retreats, And, with thrilling heart inhale Perfumes from her balmy gale.

Come! for countless gifts she bears; Take her cordial for your cares: Cull the charms that never cloy, Twine the wreaths of social joy, And with liberal hand dispense Blessings of benevolence: For when Spring shall fade away, And the year grow dim and gray, These, with changeless warmth shall glow Mid the hills of wintry snow, And undying fragrance cast, When the _Spring of life_ is past.

The Huguenot Grandfather's Tale.

It is doubtless known to my readers, that the Huguenots were French Protestants, who on account of religious persecution fled from their country. The Edict of Nantz was a law made by Henry IV. of France, allowing liberty of conscience, and safety to those who dissented from the faith of the Church of Rome, the established religion of the realm.

This edict was repealed by Louis XIV. in 1685; and the Protestants, or Huguenots, as they were generally called, left their country in great numbers and sought refuge in foreign lands. Thousands found a peaceful home in this western world, and their descendants are among the most respected and honoured inhabitants of our happy country.

Once, on a cold wintry evening, somewhat more than a century since, a bright light was seen streaming from the cas.e.m.e.nt of a pleasant abode in Boston, casting cheerful radiance upon the snow-covered pavement.

Within, by a blazing hearth, a group of children gathered around their mother, and the white-haired grandsire, singing with sweet voices, their evening hymn. Then, as the mother led away the little ones to their rest, the eldest, a boy of about twelve years old, drew his seat near the arm-chair of the aged man, and gazing affectionately on his mild, venerable countenance, said,

"Please, dear grandfather, tell me another of your good stories about our ancestors."

"So, I asked, in my boyhood, of our blessed grandmother, tales of olden times, sitting close at her feet, when the lamps were just lighted. Even now, I think I see her before me, with her silver locks, her brow but slightly wrinkled, and her eye beaming with a brilliance like youth, as she granted my request. My brothers and sisters loved and respected her, as a being of a superior order. Her memory of early scenes was clear and vivid, even in extreme age, when pa.s.sing events made but a slight impression. I perceive that my own memory is a.s.suming somewhat of the same character, and dwells with peculiar delight among the people and events of ancient times."

"Those are exactly what I delight to hear. I love the conversation of those who can tell what happened long before I was born. I will listen most attentively to whatever you shall be pleased to relate."

"I shall tell you of my grandfather's first visit to Paris. He was then about two years older than yourself, and was taken thither by his father, who held a military command under Lord Teligny, who, you remember to have seen in history, was son-in-law to the great Admiral Coligny. They were summoned to attend and take part in the public demonstrations of joy which marked the nuptials of young Henry of Navarre, and the princess Margaret. This was in the spring of 1572. The Queen of Navarre, with her son and suite, had just arrived, and were received with great pomp and festivity. Charles IX. was at that time king of France. He was a treacherous, vacillating character, and ruled by his mother, Catharine de Medicis, who was far more wicked than himself. To further her own plots, she induced him to treat the Protestant n.o.blemen with marked attention. He complimented the manly beauty of De Teligny, the dignified deportment of the Baron de Rosny, and the philosophy of the Count de la Rochefaucault. He was fond of being seen walking arm in arm with the great Admiral Coligny, whom he often addressed by the t.i.tle of "_Mon Pere_." Among the gallant, high-spirited Huguenots of rank, who dared and did so much for conscience' sake, Coligny was at that period the most distinguished.

His whole life was marked by decided and habitual piety. Prayers, and the chanted praise of psalms, arose up twice a day from his household.

The officers both of France and Germany, who often surrounded his hospitable table, were the witnesses of his humble devotion. For as soon as the cloth was removed, he rose up, with all who were present, and if there was no minister there, rendered himself, earnest thanks to Almighty G.o.d. The sacred wors.h.i.+p which he enjoyed in the quiet of his family, he endeavoured as far as possible to establish in the camp and in the army.

Many of the French n.o.bles followed under their own roofs the religious example of Coligny. For he was ever exhorting and impressing on them the importance of daily, practical piety, saying that it was not enough that the father of a family should himself lead a holy life, unless he led and induced his household to follow his footsteps and imitate his example."

"Was Jane, Queen of Navarre, a Protestant?"

"Yes, and distinguished by the most devoted piety. She had not been long in Paris, ere she was seized with mortal sickness. Some suspected it to be the effect of poison, administered by Catharine, that this formidable protector of the Protestants might be out of the way, ere her plot to destroy them was hazarded. When the Queen of Navarre saw that her end drew nigh, she called her son to her bedside, and charged him solemnly to maintain the true religion, to take a tender care of the education of his sister, to avoid the society of vicious persons, and not to suffer his soul to be diverted from duty, by the empty pleasures of the world.