by Anonymous
his knees, watching withgreat interest the movements of a tiny crab, who seemed to have come outfor a walk without his mother, and lost his way.
"Poor little thing!" said tender-hearted Daisy. "It doesn't like the hotsun. Let's put it in some cool, shady place, where the sea will come upto it."
"I'm going to take it home with me," answered Jimmie.
"What for? You haven't got a 'quarium."
"To play with, of course."
"Oh, Jimmie, it won't like that!" cried Daisy, in real anxiety. "Itwants to be in the water. You don't know how to feed it, or anything,and it'll die!"
"No, it won't. You're silly--you're only a girl, and you're _frightened_of it. _I_ know!" said Jimmie scornfully.
"I'm not afraid of it one bit!" Daisy protested. "I'd pick it up with myfingers. But I'm sure it must be frightened of you. Oh, Jimmie, _do_ letme put it in the sea again, there's a dear, good boy!"
Jimmie, however, lest he should lose his prize, caught it up in atwinkling, and stuffed it in his pocket. "You go there!" he said. "Andif you nip, I'll pay you!"
Daisy's distress was evident, and tears were gathering in her blue eyes;for she knew that everything which has life has feeling too, and shecould not bear to have even a baby crab made uncomfortable. But Jimmie,I am sorry to say, was not so tender over her, nor enough of a man togive up his own way in a little thing to make his sister happy. So, inspite of her entreaties, poor wee crabbie was condemned to durance vilein the hot and stifling pocket of Jimmie's knickerbockers, and Daisy hada sorry spot in her heart for the rest of the morning.
When the children went indoors they found that their favorite uncle hadarrived from London, and was proposing an early dinner, and a trip toCarisbrooke. In the pleasant excitement which this caused, everythingelse was forgotten. Even when Jimmie's suit was changed, he never gaveone thought to the captive crab.
Their excursion to the old castle proved delightful. Jimmie, who hadonly got as far as Richard II. in his history-book, and was not veryfond of learning, became quite eager to get on fast, and come to theplace where it told about King Charles and his imprisonment, and how hetried to get out of the tiny window shown them by the guide. Somebodyremarked that "Liberty is sweet," and Jimmie remembered writing the verysame in his copy-book; but it did not occur to him to consider that itis just as sweet in its way, to a little, sea-loving crablet as to aking.
It must have been the unusual state of excitement in which Jimmie wentto bed that night that caused the events of the day to become oddlymixed up in a horrible dream. He thought _he_ was a prisoner, not in acastle, but in the sand grotto which he and Daisy had been making in themorning, and that his jailor was a giant crab! A tiny hole in the sideof the grotto, about two inches square, was his only way of escape, andunless he could manage to squeeze himself through that, he would becrushed to death by a pair of great claws as thick as a man's body.Nearer and nearer they came, harder and harder he struggled, and gurgledand gasped. No wonder that at last his cries aroused his mother in thenext room, and that she came running to see what was the matter!
"Oh, that awful crab! Save me, save me! Oh--oh--oh!" yelled Jimmie, onlyhalf awake. And then to his increased horror he found that his dream wasat least partly real, and that his own escaped prisoner was crawlingbriskly over his pillow in the evident hope of finding the oceansomewhere down on the other side. Having the creature come upon him likethat when he least expected it, and immediately after such a dream,Jimmie fairly screamed with fright, and wouldn't lie down in bed againuntil Daisy, who had been awakened by the commotion from a lovely dreamabout the dear Carisbrooke donkey who works at the well, came andfetched the wandering crustacean away, and put it among a lot of dampseaweed in her tin pail, where it seemed very glad to stay.
First thing in the morning, before breakfast, Jimmie carried the poorlittle creature down to the shore, and left it at the edge of the waves.Moreover, he could not help thinking it very sweet of Daisy that shenever once said, "Served you right," and he privately made up his mindthat another time if she very much wanted him not to do a thing, hewouldn't do it.
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ON STILTS.
Who are these giants walking in the street? Only Hal and his friends,Tom Miller and James Little. They have made stilts from pieces of woodthey bought at the lumber-yard. Hal and James can walk very well ontheir new toys, but Tom is not so successful. He must lean against thewall, and the other boys laugh at him.
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A SONG OF THE WANDERING WIND.
Listen, Children! That's the breezeSpeaking to you as he flees. "I have no home; I rove I roamHark! I'm passing through the trees"
"Oer the world from end to end,Light of wing, my way I wend. Where'er I pass, the trees, the grassBow their heads, and corn doth bend"
"Yet by land, or on the foam,I am still without a home; I hear through all the imperious call'Wander, wander, rove and roam.'"
There he goes! His long sigh diesIn the boughs as on he flies, To rove, to roam, without a home,Underneath the starry skies.
F. W. Home.
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JUDGE JACKO AND THE CATS.
In the same barn dwelt two cats. One night they found the door of theneighboring pantry open and both walked in. They feasted on roastchicken and cream, but were not satisfied, and so they agreed to carryaway a large piece of cheese. Their plan was executed, and they draggedthe cheese to the barn. Next morning a dispute arose between themconcerning the dividing of it. Each claimed it, and their voices awokethe cook, who, to her horror, found that she had been robbed during thenight, and she declared that she would kill every cat in theneighborhood. Thus the innocent are often condemned because, in name oremployment, they are associated with the bad. One is known by thecompany he keeps; hence, the society of the bad should be shunned.
The cats' quarrel in the barn was long and loud. Each one tried to arguehis case in his own interest, and they thus drawled out their arguments.
"Know you the law?" said one, with a prolonged and emphatic howl at theword "law."
"I know the law!" howled the other, and then cried, "Neow, give memine."
"'Tis mine!" howled the first.
"You lie!" drawled the other, and then asked in the same tone loud andemphatic:--
"Who made the law?" and the first replied in a prolonged undertone.
"Who broke the law?" he then asked, to which they both sharply replied,and clinched in a rough fight, screaming, "You an' I, you an' I! Spit!spit! Meow! meow!" and there was a roll and tumble, and scratch, and ahowl, and the air was filled with dust and flying fur.
When their fight was over both were scratched and bruised and sore, andblood oozed from their wounded ears. Each felt ashamed of himself, andstole away and hid in the hay-mow, and spent the forenoon smoothing outhis ruffled fur and dressing his aching wounds.
The next day they met again and decided to leave their case to JudgeJacko, a venerable monkey, who lived in the adjoining shed. Judge Jackowas an African by birth, but in early life he was stolen by a wickedsailor from the land of palms and cocoanuts and sold into slavery to atravelling showman, with whom he wandered over many countries andlearned the manners and customs of the people. He was a careful observerof all he saw done, and hence he acquired a great amount of information.Those who would learn rapidly should be careful observers of all thatgoes on around them; knowledge obtained by observation is generally ofmore value than that obtained from books.
When Jacko had become advanced in years he was fortunate enough to havea permanent home with his master, who had also retired from thetravelling show business. In his quiet home he had a chance to meditateon what he had learned, and he became so wise that everybody called himJudge Jacko.
When the cats presented their case, he put on his wig and spectacles asem
blems of his judgeship, and procured the pantry scales in which toweigh the cheese. They sat quietly down before him and anxiously awaitedhis decision.
He broke the cheese in two parts and placed a lump in each end of thescale.
"This lump outweighs the other," said he, "justice must be done. I willbite off enough to make them equal," and so he took the lump out andnibbled at it a long time, and when he put it in the scale the oppositeend was the heavier; and he took out that lump and bit off a large pieceto make it equal to the other. Thus he continued to eat, first one andthen the other, till the cats saw but little would be left for them, andthey cried: "Hold, hold! Give us our shares and we will be satisfied."
"If you are satisfied, justice is not," replied Judge Jacko. "I mustmake this division equal," and he kept on nibbling at the cheese.
"Give us what is left!" cried one of the cats, jumping up quickly, andearnestly looking the judge in the face.
"What is left belongs to me," replied the judge. "I must be paid for myservices in this difficult case."
He then devoured the last piece, and said:--
"Justice is satisfied, and the court is dismissed."
The hungry cats went back to the barn wiser than when they came.
They had learned that ill-gotten gains are unprofitable, and that theyshould never employ the dishonest to adjust their difficulties. Theyalso learned another lesson:--
"The scales of the law are seldom poised till little or nothing remainsin either."
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PICTURES IN THE FIRE.
Have you noticed, little children, When the fire is burning low,As the embers flash and darken, How the pictures come and go?Strange the shapes, and strange the fancies, As beyond the bars you gaze,Bringing back some olden mem'ries, Thoughts of half-forgotten days!
There's the Church across the meadows, Shadow'd by the spreading yew;There's the quaintly-carven pulpit, And the olden oaken pew.Changed the scene, and on the ocean Sails a ship amid the spray;'Tis the one you watch'd departing, When some lov'd-one went away!
Yes! and there are faces plenty, Faces dear, both old and youngAnd they cause you to remember Words their lips oft said or sung.Fancy even brings the voices, Tho' they may be far away;Only pictures, only fancies, Yes! but very sweet are they!
Little Children, let me tell you Tis yourselves who shape the scene!In your minds a memory lingers, And it peeps the bars between!If you doubt me, choose a subject, Any one you may desire,And you will, by dint of looking, Find its picture in the fire!
E. Oxenford.
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HASTY CHARLIE.
Charlie never could wait. It was no use telling him "more haste lessspeed," "slow and sure," or anything of that kind. You might as welltalk to the winds. He scrambled up in the morning, scurried over theparts of his toilet that he was trusted to do for himself, hurried overhis breakfast, rushed through his lessons, with many mistakes of course,and by his hasty, impatient behavior worried his quiet, gentle littlesister Ethel nearly out of her wits, and almost drove patient MissSmith, the governess, to despair. He burnt his mouth with hot food,because he couldn't wait for it to cool; fell down-stairs, racing down,times out of number; his toys were always getting broken because hecouldn't stop to put them away; his canary flew away because he, fumingwith impatience about something, neglected to fasten the cage door oneday; and indeed space would fail to tell of all the troubles he broughtupon himself by his perpetual, heedless haste.
There were some exceptions to this general state of things. He didn'thurry to begin his lessons,--nor to go to bed. Here he would wait aslong as you liked to let him. One thing he was obliged to wait for,sorely against his will, and that was to grow up. It did take such along time, and oh, the things he meant to do when once he was a man!Father hoped he would alter a great deal before that time came, for, ashe told him, a hasty, impatient man makes other people unhappy andcannot be happy himself.
Charlie meant to have a balloon when he grew up, and a sweet-stuff shop,an elephant, a garden full of apples and plums, a tall black horse, anda donkey.
"You needn't wait so long for the donkey," Father said one day. "I haveseen a boy with two nice donkeys in Pine-tree Walk; when you and Ethelhave been good children at your lessons, Miss Smith shall let you ridethem, and when you can ride nicely I will buy you each a donkey of yourown."
Lessons certainly went better after this, and the rides were muchenjoyed on every fine day, though timid little Ethel was always just awee bit afraid at first starting. Miss Smith always safely mounted Ethelfirst.
"Wait a minute, Charlie!" she said one day, when he was pulling andtugging impatiently at Neddie's bridle, "we'll have you up directly."
But Charlie couldn't wait: he dragged the donkey into the road andscrambled upon its back.
"Charlie! Charlie! you mustn't start without us. Wait a minute!"
"I can ride by my own self now," he said; and jerking the bridle, off hewent clattering down the road, the donkey-boy after him.
To mount a donkey is one thing, to manage him another, especially if youdon't know how. On galloped Neddie, and after having knocked down alittle girl and upset a barrow of fruit, he pitched Charlie over hishead, and having thus got rid of his rider began to enjoy himself on thegrass. Poor Charlie! He had such a bruised face that he was obliged tostay at home for days.
Miss Smith couldn't take him out like that. It hurt him very much, butit hurt him more when Father said that such a silly, impatient boy wasnot fit to be trusted to ride, and that he must wait a whole year beforehe could be allowed to mount a donkey again. "For your own sake,Charlie, and for other people's."
The little girl he had knocked down was more frightened than hurt; butCharlie was very sorry, for he was not at all an ill-natured boy; andwhen he was at home by himself, while Ethel went for her donkey-rides,he had plenty of time to think things over, and made a good use of it.At first he found it very hard to be patient, but after a little whilehe found it becoming much easier to wait, and every time he tried itbecame easier still.
Next summer, when Father gave him and Ethel the promised donkeys, hesaid, "I am proud to trust you now, Charlie, and hope that you will havesome happy times with your Neddie."
And very happy times they had.
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JOHNNIE'S DICTATION.
"There now, dear, run away, and make haste, or you'll be late to school,and that will never do."
Little Johnnie Strong obediently gathered his books together, and withan effort to keep back the tears that were filling his eyes, held up hisface for a last kiss.
"Good-by, then, mother dear, and I'll try to be brave and remember whatyou've been saying. I'll just do the very best I can, and perhaps Ishall be able to manage it after all."
"That's my brave little man, now; good-by, dearie." And Johnnie wasgone.
Very often Mrs. Strong and Johnnie had little talks at breakfast-timeabout his troubles, and he used to say it helped him through the day toremember his mother's loving words. The conversation with which thisstory began was the end of one of these talks. It was getting nearexamination time, and Johnnie had been trying very hard to catch up withthe other boys in his spelling and writing. Sums he could manage nowpretty well, and he read very fairly; but it seemed to him he should_never_ be able to spell properly. "Thousands of words," he would say,despairingly, "and no two spelt alike." However, he went off to schoolvery bravely, and his determination to do the best he could was awonderful help.
He got on very well that morning until the time came for "dictation,"and then poor Johnnie's troubles began. He knew there were boys in hisclass very little better at spelling than he, who copied from theirneighbors whenever a word was given out that they could not spell; butJohnnie was above doing that. It was che
ating and deceiving, and hewould rather every word of his exercise were wrong than be a cheat. Butthat morning he was sorely tempted. He thought there had never been sucha hard piece of dictation; and when Jimmy Lane, who sat next to him,tried to help him by whispering the letters of one very hard word, itrequired some courage to ask him to stop.
At the end of the lesson the boys had to pass their books up to theteacher for inspection, and Johnnie's worst fears were realized when hisbook came back with ever so many words marked in blue pencil.
While the teacher was finishing marking the exercises, the master's bellsounded, and the boys were dismissed for a few minutes' run in theplayground; but Johnnie was obliged to stay behind to learn to spellcorrectly the words he had blundered over. Poor Johnnie! It was veryhard for him to have to stay there, trying to fix in his mind the factthat "Receive" is spelt with the E before the I, and "Believe" with theI before the E, while every other boy of the school was outside,enjoying the games in which he delighted as much as any of them.
Not quite every other boy though. There was one other prisoner besideshimself--Will Maynard, and he had to stay behind because he couldn'talways remember to _pay back_ when he _borrowed_! Not that he was by anymeans dishonest--it was only when he had a subtraction sum to do that hegot into this difficulty!
Johnnie and he were not chums, but, somehow, when they had the wholeschool to themselves they couldn't sit on forms ten yards