make him act differently, she would say, “Oh, he will outgrow his faults by-and-by." But I knew better. I knew that if his faults were not corrected, his selfishness would grow as fast as he grew; and that when he came to be a man, he would be unfeeling to the poor, and make hard bargains with them, and wring the last penny out of their threadbare pockets. 10. Poor Matthew! He was so selfish, he could never be happy'! No: he could never know the pleasure of making a sad face bright, or of drying up the tear of the despairing. And when the selfish man dies, he can not carry his money with him; he will have to leave it. And who, do you suppose, will mourn for him`? 11. Children'! children'! be generous'. If you have only half a stick of candy, give somebody a part of it. Perhaps some child will say, "But I have nothing to give." That's a mistake. There is not a boy or girl living, who has nothing to give. 12. Give good wishes. Give kind words and smiles to the sad and weary-hearted. If a little child, who is poorly clad, goes to your school, with his clothes patched, darned—nay, even ragged; if the tear starts to his eye when your school-mates laugh at him, and shun him, and refuse to play with him-just go right up and put your arms around his neck, and ask him to play with you. 13. That is what you can do. That is what you can give. Love him. Love is sometimes worth more than food, and drink, and clothing. You can all love the sad and sorrowful. Then never say you have "nothing to give." a SELF-ISH, regarding one's own interest C COAX'ED, persuaded by flattery. chiefly. [wealth. b MI-SEE, one who cares for nothing but [LESSON XLII. This lesson describes the character of the extremely selfish boy, who, although he deserves our censure, is to be pitied also, for he can never be happy. Such a boy will be apt to become a hard-hearted, unfeeling, miserly old man, shunned and despised by all. Children'! listen to the advice given in the last three verses of this lesson.] LESSON XLIII. THE LOST CAMEL. 1. A dervisa was journeying alone in the desert, when two merchants suddenly met him. "You have lost a camel," said he to the merchants. "Indeed we have," they replied. "Was he not blind in his right eye, and lame in his left leg?" said the dervis'. 2. "He was," replied the merchants. "Had he lost a front tooth'?" said the dervis'. "He had," rejoined the merchants. "And was he not loaded, with honey on one side, and corn on the other?" "Most certainly he was," they replied; "and as you have seen him so lately, and describe him so well, we suppose you can conduct us to him." 3. "My friends," said the dervis', "I have never seen your camel, nor ever heard of him, but from yourselves." "A pretty story, truly!" said the merchants: "but where are the jewels which formed a part of his burden'?" "I have neither seen your camel, nor your jewels," repeated the dervis. 4. On this they seized him, and took him to the d cadi, where, on the strictest search, nothing could be found against him; nor could any evidence be produced to prove him guilty, either of falsehood or of theft. They were then about to proceed against him as a sorcerer, when the dervis, with great calmness, thus addressed the court: 5. "I have been much amused with your surprise, and own that there has been some ground for to think that I have been deceiving you: but I have lived long, and alone; and have found amples room for observation, even in a desert. you 6. "I knew that I had crossed the track of a camel that had strayed from its owner, because I saw no mark of any human footsteps on the same route: I knew that the animal was blind of one eye, because it had cropped' the herbage only on one side of its path; and I perceived that it was lame in one leg, from the faint impression one foot had made upon the sand. 7. "I also concluded that the animal had lost one tooth, because, wherever it had grazed, a small tuft of herbage was left uninjured, in the centre of its bite. As to that which formed the burden of the beast, the busy ants informed' me that it was corn on the one side; and the clustering flies, that it was honey on the other." DER'-VIS, a Turkish priest or monk. b RE-JOIN ED, replied; answered. BUR'-DEN, load. CA-DI, a Turkish judge. • Ev'-I-DENCE, proof; testimony. 'SOR'-CE-RER, a magician. AM'-PLE, abundant. KIM-PRES'-SION, mark made by pressure. [LESSON XLIII. This is a good illustration of the principle of correct object instruction. It shows how much may be learned by carefully noticing and studying whatever passes under our observation.] 1. I wonder what my wings were made for', Fluttering, active, restless things'! If this cage is all of bird-land', 2. Shaking, hopping, waiting, restive'," 3. Yonder, in a deep-green cedar', Than to know that one has wings, Slavery hath a thousand stings. 5. Oh, this cage'! it does not fit' me: REST'-IVE, uneasy. b PIN'-IONS, wings. |: FET-TERED, confined. d Az'-URE, light blue. [LESSON XLIV. "The Captive Bird's Complaint"-a sigh for freedom—is a touching appeal against the cruelty of imprisoning the songsters of the grove. See, also, LESSONS XVIII. and XIX.] LESSON XLV. THE CRICKETS ON THE HEARTH. "On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence, from the hearth there thrills 1. Bless the crickets, with their merry voices," said Aunt Mary. "What shrill notes they send up from the kitchen below! How they chirp! chirp! as if they were having a merry time down there." 2. "The merry voices of the crickets', did you say? But the cricket has no voice'. Did you know that'?" "Then how can the cricket sing'? How can he chirp'? Is not that the cricket's voice? And don't you hear him now?" 3. "Yes, yes. I hear him'. But he does not make that noise with his mouth', but by rubbing his two outer wings together. The cricket is no singer-but a very good fiddler. Just watch him when he makes that noise-but do not frighten him--and you can see how he does it." |