Part 2

WHEN Molly came home from the party to-night— The party was out at nine— There were traces of tears in her bright blue eyes, That looked mournfully up to mine.

For some one had said, she whispered to me, With her face on my shoulder hid, Some one had said (there were sobs in her voice) That they didn’t like something she did.

So I took my little girl up on my knee— I am old and exceedingly wise— And I said, “My dear, now listen to me; Just listen and dry your eyes.

“This world is a difficult world, indeed, And people are hard to suit, And the man who plays on the violin Is a bore to the man with the flute.

“And I myself have often thought How very much better ’twould be, If every one of the folks that I know Would only agree with me.

“But, since they will not, the very best way To make this world look bright Is never to mind what the people say, But to do what you think is right.”

CHILDREN’S SAYINGS.

BESSIE stood watching the sky one day as the sun went behind a cloud.

“The sun has gone to call on the moon. Why, there he is again,” she exclaimed, as he reappeared almost at once; “I suppose she wasn’t at home.”

When little Ada, aged three, had been told the story of Lot’s wife being turned into a pillar of salt she asked her mother, anxiously, “Is all salt made of ladies?” Later, when six years old, she was called one Sunday, “Come, Ada, and learn your catechism;” whereupon she answered roguishly, “If it’s for me, it ought to be a kittychism!”

Cyril was seven years old. He loved his mother very dearly, and had been separated from her sometimes, as she had to go to India. Once when she came to wish him “good-night” he was under the bed-clothes. He came out with a flushed little face, and said, as he hugged her tight: “Mummie, do you know what I was doing? I was asking God to love you as much as I do. He couldn’t love you more.”

THE ROBIN’S EGG.

WHAT was ever so dainty of hue? Who can tell, is it green, is it blue? Look, little girl, At this beautiful pearl Hid in the nest of the robin!

Nay, little girl! Nay, nay, don’t touch! Wait for a week—a week’s not much— Then come here, and see What there will be Hid in the nest of the robin.

THE LITTLE GIRL WHO DIDN’T WANT HER BATH.

SOMEBODY shook and shivered, Somebody sobbed and cried, While the Sponge and the Soap stood waiting The nursery bath beside.

Why should she wash this morning? Each day she said the same, And nurse, who was tired of the crying, Quite vexed with her became.

Never a bit of washing Somebody got that day, And the evening fell, and her father came To have a game of play.

Black was her face—he could not Its grimy surface kiss; At washing she never has grumbled, From that sad day to this.

THE DIFFERENCE IN BIBLES.

LITTLE Mary wanted to learn her Sunday school lesson. It was Saturday afternoon, and the time was passing; but she had been busy with her dolls dress, and the lesson was yet unlearned. At length her elder sister took a Bible and said:

“Come, Mary, I will help you to learn your lesson, and you can go back to your play.” Mary came to her sisters side ready to begin her lesson, when she suddenly began:

“Sister, let us study it out of grandfather’s Bible.”

“But what difference can it make?”

“Why, grandfather’s Bible is so much more interesting than yours.”

“O no, Mary, they are just the same, exactly.”

“Well,” replied the observing child, “I really think grandfather’s must be more interesting than yours; he reads it so much more.”

WORTHY OF A MEDAL.

SEVERAL years ago there were two seals in the “Zoo” garden at Amsterdam which were so fond of their keeper that they could recognize his voice a long way off, and would go to meet him.

These seals also became attached to an old gentleman and his little granddaughter, who often went to see them in company with a little woolly dog, and who always took the seals something nice to eat. These animals were kept in a large pond, and they would come out of the water on seeing their friends and sit down with them to have a good time on the sand.

The small dog was very lively on these occasions, and he and the seals would frolic together as though they belonged to the same family, and shared the fruit and cakes from the little girl’s basket.

One day, however, just in the midst of their fun, the dog fell into the pond, and, after struggling for a moment in the water, he sank. The seals uttered a cry of dismay as he disappeared, and then, flopping to the pond, they plunged in. In an instant the larger one had seized the half-drowned dog, and, carrying him very tenderly in his mouth, placed the dripping animal at his mistress’s feet.

THE LITTLE GIRL WHO WAS LOVING-HEARTED.

CISSY BELL’S heart was so tender that it made her feel very badly even to hear of anything getting hurt. One day her brother Will and his friend Tom were telling how a big dog chased a cat, and nearly frightened her to death, when Cissy cried out, “O, what a bad, bad dog! what made him want to hurt kitty?”

“Why, we told him to; he isn’t a bad dog,” said Will.

Then Cissy’s cheeks grew red and her eyes flashed as she said, “You is bad boys; what for you want kitty hurted? God don’t want kitties to be hurted;” and then the little preacher broke down and sobbed out the rest on mamma’s shoulder.

Will and Tom both got red in the face and pretty soon walked off; but they did not soon forget the lesson Cissy taught them.

A SAUCY FELLOW.

A GROUP of little pansy-folk Came out one summer day, Nodding their pretty heads about In such a charming way.

Bonnets of gold and lavender And purple, too, they wore, And such a jolly company Was never seen before.

A very saucy bumblebee Came loudly buzzing by, And snubbed the pansy-folk, and whisked Their bonnets all awry.

They scolded, frowned, and shook with fright; They bade him come no more. O such a sorry company Was never seen before!

THE FISHERMAN MARQUIS.

MACDONALD tells of a young marquis who lived for a number of years as a poor fisherman in his own Scotch village, enduring the hardship of the men who win their living from the sea, his rank being meanwhile unknown. Finally he declared his position and assumed the rights of his place, and now the men whenever they were in trouble brought to him their grievances, with a feeling of certainty that he knew their sufferings and would sympathize with them.

So Jesus, having once lived in the flesh, and for our sakes became poor, and having suffered weariness, hunger, thirst, bitter temptations, and finally death itself, knows all our human estate, our sorrows, cares, and anxieties, and ever sympathizes with us with infinite tenderness and love. We have not a Saviour who cannot understand all that comes to us. He was a baby, a child, a man. He was despised and honored; loved and hated; tenderly cared for and finally killed by envious hearts. So, you see, he will understand anything we want to tell him about.

“EXCUSE ME, PRINCE.”

THE following pretty story is told of a brown-eyed maiden just four years old, with the sweetest voice and the tenderest heart in the world. She was pulling her little rocking-chair across the room the other day, when somehow in her progress she trod upon the tail of dog Prince, and drew forth a low growl of reproach from that much-valued member of the family. A look of dismay crossed the baby’s face, and she turned hastily. “Excuse me, Prince,” she pleaded, as she laid her snowflake of a hand caressingly on the dog’s head. Prince thumped his tail heavily as if to say, “It’s all right, dear little mistress. I know it was all an accident, and you won’t do it again, I am sure.” And the little maiden went on with her play feeling very happy.

LITTLE GIRLS.

WHERE have they gone to—the little girls, With natural manners and natural curls? Who love their dollies and like their toys, And talk of something besides the boys?

Little old women in plenty I find, Mature in manners and old in mind; Little old flirts, who talk of their “beaus,” And with each other in stylish clothes.

Little old belles, who, at nine and ten, Are sick of pleasure and tired of men, Weary of travel, of balls, of fun— And find no new thing under the sun.

Once, in the beautiful long ago, Some dear little children I used to know; Girls who were merry as lambs at play, And laughed and rollicked the livelong day.

They thought not at all of the “style” of their clothes; They never imagined that boys were “beaus;” “Other girls’ brothers” and “mates” were they, Splendid fellows to help them play.

Where have they gone to? If you see One of them anywhere, send her to me. I would give a medal of purest gold To one of those dear little girls of old, With an innocent heart and open smile, Who knows not the meaning of “flirt” or “style.”

THE FLOWERS AND THE WATER DROPS.

DOWN in an earth garden were some flowers all drooping and sad. Father Sun saw them, and calling his little children, the sunbeams, to him, said, “To-day, my little helpers, I need you to do some work for me. Go down to the big, round earth far below, and bring back to the sky country all the water dust that you can carry.”

The little sunbeams started, and although it was a long, long journey, they were so bright and merry that it seemed like play to them. By and by they drew near to Mother Earth, and before long saw myriads of tiny drops of water, some taking hold of hands forming part of the great ocean, others rushing along in a strong, deep river, while some were dancing and tumbling in a merry little brook, singing sweet songs. But how could the sunbeams coax the water drops to come up into the sky country? Surely the ocean, or the river, or even the little laughing brooks could not be carried up so high!

But the little workers were not a bit discouraged, and they began at once to shake the water drops apart. The little particles of water no sooner felt the sunbeams shaking them than they said to each other, “Come, now for a long ride.” And sure enough, up, up, up they sailed in the boats of air, helped on by the sunbeams. But as they rose higher in the air suddenly they began to shiver, for just then Mr. North Wind came rushing along. How the poor little vapor mass shook, and then suddenly began once more to form into drops! And some little children, far down on the earth below, looked up at the sky and exclaimed, “See the dark clouds up there!” while their mamma said, “It is going to rain.”

In a few minutes the little drops felt as if they were being pulled back to earth, and starting from the cloud which was holding them, they said to one another, “Now for a race!” And soon, patter, patter, patter, came the sound of the rain, and the little drops once more were back in their earth home.

Ah! how the flowers lifted their drooping heads and smiled then. If you had been very close, you might almost have heard them sing, “God is good! God is good!”

BRASS BUTTONS.

LITTLE Ruth Cleveland, when she was the baby of the White House, had no very exalted idea of her father’s great office.

Saturday, the weather being balmy and springlike, one of the policemen who guard the private portion of the White House grounds took his little daughter with him to enjoy the pleasant surroundings. The little girl was not quite six years old. While the policeman was pointing out the beauty of the grounds to his little daughter, Ruth and Esther Cleveland, under the escort of their respective nurses, left the mansion for a run.

Ruth ran ahead of her nurse, and on discovering a girl of her own age surveyed her from head to foot. After looking the little girl over Ruth straightened herself up and said:

“My papa is President; who is your papa?”

The policeman’s daughter replied: “My papa is a policeman.”

Ruth glanced up at the burly form ornamented with bright brass buttons, and hanging her head in an abashed manner, said, “I wish my papa was a policeman.”

How often we think that the things we have not are better than the things we have!

WHERE ARE THE BIRDS?

HAVE you heard, children, that the bluebirds are nearly gone from our country? Other families of singing birds are going fast, and by and by it may be that we shall have only the sparrows and other birds that have no beautiful colors or sweet songs.

All this is true, and many good people are feeling very sad about it. Where are the birds? Alas! They have been killed—thousands, yes, millions of them—for the feathers that you see in the shops and that ladies and little girls wear on their hats!

NEVER GIVE UP.

“I WILL get it right,” said Harry to himself, stopping just long enough to toss the hair out of his eyes. “There’s a way to do it, and I’m not going to give up, see if I do.”

“O, come on, Harry,” called Will; “what’s the use of hanging on so?”

“What’s the use? Why, when I begin I don’t like to give up beat, and, what’s more, I don’t mean to.”

And Harry didn’t give up, and by and by the figures all came straight.

● Transcriber’s Notes: ○ Typographical errors were silently corrected. ○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only when a predominant form was found in this book. ○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).