“Then William Day means to be an honest boy, and you could not make him more angry than to tell him he would ever be a thief; and yet William plays too much round the hook. What does he do? Why, he will take little things out of his father’s desk or shop, or out of his mother’s basket or drawers, when he really does not want his father or mother to see him or find it out. William thinks, ‘O, it’s only a little thing; it isn’t much matter; I dare say they had just as lief I had it as not,’ Ah, William, do you think so? Why do you not go to your parents and ask for it then? No; the fact is that William is learning to steal, but he does not believe it is stealing any more than the little fish believed that what looked like a fly was in fact a dreadful hook. By and by, if William doesn’t take care, when he goes into a shop or store, he will begin to take little things from his master, just as he did from his father and mother; and he will take more and more, till finally he will be named and disgraced as a thief, and all because, like the little fish, he would play around the hook.”
“Mamma,” said Charley, “who are George Jones and William Day? Did I ever see them?”
“My dear, I must use some names in a story; I am just making this up to show Charley what I mean by playing round the hook And now let me teach you a text out of the Bible that means the same thing: ‘He that despiseth small things shall fall by little and little.’”
FAIRY TALES.
“Come, papa, do tell us a story,” said little Edward and Mary to their father, on New Year’s evening.
“A story — a story! always a story,” said the father “What shall it be about, now?”
“O, something wonderful” said Edward; “I like your real wonderful stories, like the Arabian Nights — about palaces in the air, and about genii that can bring up great dishes of gold and diamonds.”
“Yes,” said little Mary; “and where they live the trees are all covered with pearls and precious stones.”
“Rather poor eating, I should think,” said her father, “unless they have extraordinary teeth.” *
“And then, papa, these genii can go any where in a minute — up to the sun, and down to the bottom of the ocean; they can lift up great mountains, and pile up rocks, and they have long, flashing swords.”
“It seems to me,” said their father, “that you know all about them already. I don’t need to tell you a story about them.”
“O, but we always like to hear, even if we do know.”
“Well,” said the father, “then I will tell you a story about two little children whose father was a Spirit King.”
“What, a genius?” said Edward.
“I don’t know exactly what you mean by a genius. He was a spirit and a great, powerful king, and he could do all those things that you say the genii can, and a great many more. He could lift up mountains, if he chose; he could raise up all the great waves of the sea, and make dreadful storms, if he only spoke to them; and as to bringing up pearls and diamonds, he knew where every pearl and diamond was to be found, that is any where in the world, or even down at the bottom of the ocean, or in the deep, dark caves in the middle of the earth; and he could bring them all up only by speaking to them.”
“Where did he live, papa?”
“O, far off — up, up in the sky; beyond the stars was his home; there he had a beautiful palace.”
“O, do tell us about it.”
“Well, then, the walls of the palace were built of jasper—”
“I have read something like this in the Arabian Nights,” said Edward.
“But I don’t know what jasper is,” said Mary.
“A very clear, bright crimson stone,” said her father; “and it was polished till it shone like a looking glass; then every door in the palace was made of one whole pearl.”
“What wonderful pearls they must have been!” said Mary, “O, such things are very common in these stories,” said Edward.
“So you may think,” said his father. “How beautifully all these doors would look, carved out of white, glistening pearl!”
“And had they gold hinges?” asked Edward.
“No doubt,” said his father. “Then all the foundations of the palace were set full of sparkling, precious stones; for instance, one foundation stone would be full of diamonds, and the next would be of bright yellow topaz, and the next would be sparkling green emeralds, and the next would be clear, blue sapphires, and so on, all the colors you could think of, so that the foundation looked like a dazzling rainbow.”
“O, this is a real fairy story,” said Edward; “better than any I ever heard.”
“Then,” said his father, “this palace, was not one small house, such as we live in. In Europe, where the kings have palaces, they often take up two or three squares of a city; but this palace is a city itself; it has streets through it, and these streets are paved with gold, and the gold is polished so smooth and clear that it is just like a looking glass, so that you can see every thing in it.”
“And who lives there?” asked Edward. “O, all sorts of beautiful spirits; you know I told you that this was a Spirit King” said his father.
“But you have not told us any thing about the king; -was he very beautiful?”
“Yes, my boy, he was very beautiful; so beautiful that those who saw him among all these splendid things forgot to look at them, and looked only at him.”
“How did he look?”
“That I cannot tell you. It is said that his robes were all dazzling and bright. I can only tell you that he was., more beautiful than all the most beautiful things you ever saw together.”
“Well, papa., and what about those children?”
“Why, there were two little children once, and this great king was their father. They never had seen him.”
“Never seen their father! How strange! Did he love them?”
“Yes; he loved them very dearly, and took excellent care of them, as you shall hear.”
“But pray where did these children live?”
“What should you say if I told you that you were these children?”
“We, father?”
“Yes, my children; have you never heard of a Spirit King, who covers himself with light as a garment, who stretches out the heavens as a curtain, who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters, who maketh the clouds his chariot, and walketh upon the wings of the wind?”
“O, papa, we know now” said the children.
“But that is out of the Bible,” said Edward; “I have read it a great many times. I thought you were telling a fairy story.”
“And what is that about his palace?” said Mary.
“Do you not remember the twenty-first of Revelation, where the beautiful city is described?—’And her light was like unto a jasper stone, clear as crystal, and the building of the wall of it was of jasper, and the foundation of the walls of the city were garnished with all manner of precious stones, and the twelve gates were twelve pearls, each separate gate of one pearl, and the street of the city was pure gold, as it were transparent glass.’”
“O, yes; I remember,” said Mary. “Well, now, my dears,” said their father, “I want you to remember one thing. There is nothing that you read of in fairy stories that is as strange and wonderful as what is true about you children.”
“About us, papa?”
“Yes, my children; you are children of One greater than any spirit king; you have a Father who knows every thing, and can do every thing, and who can make more beautiful things in an hour than ever you read of in any fairy tale; and you will live as long as he does — forever.”
The little children looked at their father with a serious air; they were struck with the tone in which he pronounced the word forever.
“But,” added their father, “you will not only live as long as God lives, but you may become yourselves more beautiful, and bright, and glorious than the sun or stars in yonder sky.”
“Does the Bible say so, father?” said Mary.
“You know,” said their fa
ther, “that our Saviour says, when speaking of the day of judgment, ‘Then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father;’ and it is said in Daniel, xii. 6, ‘And many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.’
‘And they that are wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars forever.’ Now, my little ones, I do not forbid your reading these wonderful fairy tales, but I want you to remember, when you read the strangest and most wonderful things that are told in them, that things more strange, more wonderful, are true with regard to you. To have a Father in heaven, to have a soul that never can die, to hope, through your Saviour, to live forever in heaven, is more wonderful than all the wonders of fairy land.”
A TALK ABOUT BIRDS.
ONE bright morning, when the yellow dandelions were shining out like so many gold dollars in the green grass, and the brooks were chattering and purling to each other, and small eyebrights were looking up from the turf like flocks of little white sheep, a little boy, whom we shall call Jamie, found, all of a sudden, that his school had stopped, and he had come to the first day of his vacation.
So says Jamie to himself, “What shall I do all day long?” After a while he thought he would take a basket, and go over into a neighboring field, and gather some eyebrights and violets to dress flower vases for his mamma.
Well, over the fence he went, and wandered far off into the field; and there he met two strange boys, larger than he, whose names were Will Drake and Charles Jones.
“Hulloa!” said one of the boys to him; a come along with us — we are going to have fun. We have got our pockets full of stones, and we are going to kill birds with them; it’s the best fun in the world.”
Now, Jamie was a thoughtless little fellow, and when another boy asked him to do a thing, at it he went at once, without so much as thinking whether it was right or not; so he filled his pockets with stones, and began running and shouting with the other boys. “Hulloa! there’s a chipping bird.” said one; “I’ll hit him.”
“Look at that robin!” bawled another; “send a stone at him. O, there’s a bluebird! now for him!” I am happy to say that these boys missed their hits, generally, for they had much worse intentions than they had skill to execute.
While they were thus running about, a nice white cat came stepping along the top of a fence, putting down her paws as daintily as any lady. “Hulloa! there’s a cat; now for fun,” shouted Will Drake, as he let fly a stone, and then dashed after the cat. Puss was frightened, and scampered with all her might; and all three of the boys joined chase after her, and came tumbling, one after another, over the back yard fence of the place where Jamie lived.
Now, Jamie’s mother had been sitting at her window watching the whole affair; and now she stood up, and called, in a very quiet way, “Jamie, come up here; I have something to show you.”
The other two boys slunk away a little. Jamie came up into his mother’s room, all panting and hot, and began—”Mamma, what do you want to show me?” —
Now Jamie’s mamma was a very kind and tender-hearted woman, and nothing seemed more dreadful to her than cruelty to any animal. Now, some mothers, who felt as she did, would have seized Jamie by the arm, and said, “Here, you naughty boy; I saw you stoning birds over in the lot; if you ever do such a thing again, I shall punish you.” But Jamie’s mother had reflected about these things, and made up her mind that when little boys did cruel things, it was more because they were thoughtless, than because they at heart were cruel; and, therefore, instead of blaming him harshly, she set out to make him think.
So, when Jamie came in, she washed his heated face and hands, and then took from a drawer a small black box, which she wound up with a key like a watch-key. As soon as the box was set down, it began to play a most beautiful tune, and Jamie was astonished and delighted. — .
“What a curious box!” said he; “who did make it?”
“I do not know,” said his mother; “but why do you think it is curious?”
“Why, it is curious to see a musical instrument shut up in such a little box. Why, I could carry this about in my pocket. I wish ’twas mine, and I’d set it a-going, and put it in my pocket, some day, and then I could make the boys stare.”
“But,” said his mother, “if you think it strange to see a musical instrument put in a little box, what would you think if I could tell you of one which was put in a bird’s throat?”
“In a bird’s throat!” said Jamie; “who ever heard of such a thing?”
“Well,” answered his mother, “there is a boy in this room who has been listening this morning to a little instrument which is inside of a bird’s throat, and which can make sweeter music than this box; and yet he did not seem to wonder at it at all.”
Jamie looked wondering at his mother. “When you went into the fields, did you not hear robins and blue-birds playing on little instruments in their throats, and making all sorts of sweet sounds? Look now at your little Canary bird hanging in the window, and see when he sings how his throat trembles.”
“O, I know what you mean now,” said Jamie; “you mean my little Canary bird is like a music box. Well, but what sort of an instrument has he got in his throat? I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Why, he has a little, fine, soft flute, that can play as many notes as a piano.”
“A flute in his throat,” said Jamie, laughing; “what a funny idea!”
“It is even so,” said his mother. “The little pipe through which the Canary bird plays his tunes is more curiously made than any flutes which any instrument maker ever formed; it is so small, yet so perfect; it fits into his throat so easily as never to interrupt his eating or breathing; and it turns whichever way he bends his head. Now, did you ever hear of any musical instrument that was as curious as this?”
“Now, it is strange,” said Jamie; “I might have heard a bird sing a month, and never have thought of all this; but now I do think of it, it seems very curious.
“But, mother, what is this little flute made of?”
“It is made of little elastic rings.”
“Elastic! what is that?” said Jamie.
“Why, like India rubber, springy and easily bent; and its being made of so many little elastic rings is the reason why he can turn and bend his throat without any inconvenience, which he could not do if it were a straight, stiff pipe, like a flute.
“But,” continued his mother, “these little bright eyes that your bird has are more wonderful than any thing I have yet told you of; but the contrivance is so very complicated that I do not think I can make you understand it.”
“What is complicated?” said Jamie. “The machinery in the inside of my watch is complicated; that is, it is made up of a great many parts which answer many different purposes. And there is a machinery inside of one of those little birds’ eyes that is more complicated still.”
“What, that little dot of an eye, not bigger than a pin head?”
“Well, let me tell you; inside of that little eye is a contrivance by which, when the bird is looking at you, an exact picture of you is painted on the back of his eye.”
“It must be a very small picture,” said Jamie.
“Of course it is,” said his mother, “but still it is a picture exactly like you; every line and every color in your face is painted exactly on the back of that little eye.”
“Pray, how is it done?” said Jamie.
“That, my dear boy, is the machinery which I told you was so complicated that I cannot hope to make you understand it. There is a contrivance just like it in your own eye, and in the eye of every animal; but it is more curious in a bird’s eye, because it is so very small.”
“What, do we all have pictures painted on the back of our eyes? Is that the way we see?”
“Yes, that is the way; and when you are older you will be able to understand the wonderful and beaut
iful contrivance by which this is done. It has cost learned men much study to find it out, and they have discovered that the way in which the eye of a bird is made in some respects is more curious than our own.”
“Well, mamma,” said Jamie, “you have convinced me of one thing; and that is, that there is a great deal more to be learned about a little bird than I ever supposed.”
“But, Jamie, I have not yet told you half. Every bone in this little bird’s body is as carefully made and finished as if that lone were the only thing the Creator had to make; and the joints of them are curiously contrived, so that the little fellow can hop, and spring, and turn all day, and yet nothing grates or gets out of order. They all move so springy and easily, that I doubt whether he ever thought that he had a joint in his body or not. Then he has contrivances in his little stomach for dissolving his food, and turning it into blood, and he has blood vessels to carry it all over his body, and he has nerves to feel with, and he has muscles to move with.”
“Now, mother, I don’t know what nerves and muscles are,” said Jamie.
“Nerves are what you feel with. You eat, and the nerves of your mouth give you your taste. The nerves of your nose give you smell The nerves of your eyes see, and the nerves of your ears enable you to hear, and the nerves that cover your whole body enable you to feel. These nerves all come from a very large nerve, that runs down through the middle of your back bone, and which is commonly called the spinal marrow; and they go through the whole body, dividing and branching out, till they form a network covering over the whole of it, so that you cannot put the point of a pin any where without touching a nerve.”
Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe Page 513